Ghosts of the Past
by Red Mage 04
Summary: SatAM semiAU. Tragedy strikes the freedom fighters as one of their own is lost, but there is little time to mourn, for Death lurks in the shadows as Robotnik unleashes a ghost from Sir Charles’ past upon them. Better summary inside.
1. Usual Day On The Job

Good day to you all, (man I feel so nervous).

Sorry, first Sonic story jitters, hehe.

At any rate, just a few things I wanted to say here in the authors note to avoid any confusion. First of, this is predominantly a Satam based fic (though a few characters from the comics and the games will make appearances). There are a few changes that I have made, though. First off, the Freedom Fighters operate like you would expect a group of guerilla soldiers to, they have weapons, they have armor, they have light assault craft for hit and run convoy raids. Also, there will be major AU things present later that stem heavily from Star Wars and Halo, (mainly dealing with how certain characters are present, the Great War, and Sonic's origins).

As a further heads up, there will be some graphic material later (think Saving Private Ryan and you'll have a good idea).

I also want to extend my thanks to Farr2rich, The Outcasts, and to bringonthethunder of DA. Also, thank you MaRaMa-TSG of DA for allowing me to use your Robotnik design, which can be found here (you'll need to remove the spaces because of the weird formatting won't allow for linking)

http/www. deviantart. com/ deviation/ 27885030/

Finally, I have a minor request. Satam was the cartoon that I grew up with, and I am well aware that Satam fans are part of a very small minority here, and I am also aware of the treamtent that the Satam cast receives from some… indivduals. Thus, I must ask something of you: no character bashing in your reviews, no 'OMG Sally sucks' and things like that, please, I am begging you.

Many thanks for those of you who leave polite and constructive reviews.

To any and all lawyers reading this: I hereby swear upon my immortal soul that I have no delusion as to who owns what about this fic, to don't try and sue me.

That said, I hope those of you reading it enjoy it. (bows)

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Ghosts of the Past

* * *

Usual Day on the Job

The young ground squirrel knelt in the shadows of a ruined building, leaning back against the wall, the rhythmic stomping of a Swat Bot patrol growing louder as it drew nearer to her position. She blinked a bit of sweat out of her eyes, and licked her suddenly dry lips, hoping that she was concealed enough that they wouldn't notice her, though the blackish blue color of her Zeo Matrix produced Nagai combat armor would certainly help, while the gray colored ferrosteel plates on her chest and her shoulders would probably look like debris if they decided to take a closer look at her.

She sent out a silent thank you to whoever had thought the suit up, wherever that person might be. Zeo Matrix had been one of several mega corps involved in heavy arms manufacturing prior to the Great War, before said war wiped those corporations off of the map, and suits like the one she wore had traditionally been produced for elite covert ops units, where stealth and agility were the primary concerns. Since the coup, though, Nagai combat suits had been rather hard to come by, as the local overlord had little need of armor for his mechanized soldiers. This suit and a few others had turned up when one of their recon missions had resulted in them finding an old supply cache that the Overlander bombing raids had apparently missed.

The clankers drew closer, yanking her back to reality, and she squeezed back a little further. She didn't fear the mechanical troopers, as they weren't exactly the brightest things on Mobius, and even if they did spot her, the customized DC-19 plasma rifle that she held in her hands would take care of them. However, shooting them would very likely result in raising the alarm around the city, and this mission would require stealth right now, as opposed to charging in, blasters firing at anything mechanized.

The noise reached a crescendo and the girl made doubly certain that she was out of sight.

Much to her relief, there was no pause in their marching, and shortly enough, the sounds grew fainter. She sighed, and then tapped the boom mike that she was wearing, which was connected to a red, semitransparent visor that came down from her helmet.

"Everyone report in, what's your status?" she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"We're here, Sally-girl," came the voice of her best friend, Bunnie, "Twain and I are doing fine, or would be, if he wasn't as nervous as a junebug in a hen house."

"What are you to be expecting?" came the French accented voice of Antoine D'Coolette, laced with its usual amount of uneasiness. "We are soon to be up to our ears in Swat Bots, and I do not fancy getting shot, especially with all of these explodables on my back."

"Mate, do us a favor, and can it!" Geoffrey St. John growled, and Sally held little doubt that the skunk was rubbing his forehead in irritation, annoyed that he had once again been paired up with 'rank amateurs' as he put it.

"All of you, quiet!" she said into the mike, her voice carrying the quiet authority of one who knew exactly what she was doing. She then looked into the lower right corner of the visor that she was wearing, watching the clock tick down on the Heads Up Display. "Everyone prepare to move out on my mark."

Five seconds passed, and the countdown timer hit zero, the signal for everyone to carry out their important roles. After all, on a mission like this, everything had to go off without a hitch, or they were all going to get hurt.

"Mark!" she said, and she dashed out of the alley, the armored vest she wore over her combat suit flying out behind her like a short cloak.

A hundred yards ahead of her, she saw an ever familiar blue and black blur that approached the checkpoint guards. Sonic was once again playing the role of bait, as the Swatbots, and almost every other mechanical entity in the city, were programmed to drop what they were doing and go after him in the event that he was spotted. Not exactly the best thing to have your guards do, especially if they were watching over something vital, but Sally wasn't complaining.

"Yo, chrome domes!" she heard him call out in a cocky 'I'm the best and I know it' manner, while flicking an imaginary piece of lint off of his own Nagai armor, exactly identical to her own, save that he didn't wear a helmet. "You guys looking for me?"

"Hedgehog alert! Priority one!" the droids said, leveling their wrist mounted blasters and letting fly at the rodent.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sonic responded, before tearing off in the other direction.

As they always did, the large guard bots tore off after him, despite the fact that they had no hope of keeping up with him on foot. However, central command would doubtlessly be alerted to his presence as well, and Robotnik, with his single minded obsession towards capturing him, would send his most deadly instrument after the hedgehog. This would keep said instrument occupied and unable to cause trouble with the rest of the strike force.

Her plasma rifle held in her hands, Princess Sally Acorn raced through the check point and kept heading towards her destination: a large building approximately half a kilometer south west of her position. It was one of Robotnik's Swat Bot production factories, and she hoped that by taking it off line, that it would open up a hole in his defenses that would leave him vulnerable to more attacks.

It took her less than a minute to go the distance, but to her dismay, she noticed that there will still some bots that were guarding the factory. Either Sonic hadn't swung by this area yet, or the resident despot had manually overrode their priority commands, which meant that he might finally be starting to wise up about their game plan.

She let out a quiet curse as they turned their red tinted photoceptors on her, and raised their integrated blasters to try and cut her down. A quick head count of them gave her four opponents, and her cunning mind quickly formed a battle plan as crimson energy bolts zinged above her head.

The ground squirrel threw herself forward with a slight leftward angle, pitching herself into a roll that threw their aim off. As she came up, she placed her right foot forward, putting herself into a kneeling position as two more shots crackled over her head. She squeezed the plasma rifle's trigger, and a trio of blue colored energy bolts was spat out of the barrel. A sharp, staccato crack accompanied them, followed swiftly by the satisfying sound of a Swat Bot falling backwards and impacting upon the ground.

Its partner redirected its aim, its crosshairs set right upon the heart of the princess. However, before it could fire, Sally sent another three shot burst its way, and the plasma bolts nailed it right in its visual systems, all but ripping the head apart.

More shots came as the other pair tried to gun her down, but she quickly rolled to one side and ducked into an alleyway, smirking slightly as she heard the stamping noise that the three hundred pound machines always made when they ran. So predictable, and so stupid as well. She wondered why Robotnik had never bothered to upgrade their AI to something better, as he certainly had the means to do so. Still, his loss was their gain, and in the risky business of guerilla warfare, Sally would take any advantage that she could get her hands on.

She quickly reached down and thumbed a switch that was right above her Deecee's trigger area, switching the firing mode from burst to fully automatic, and then moved it over to she held it only with her left hand. With her right, she reached over her back, and drew her family's ancestral longsword.

The Sword of Acorns, as it was termed, was a very unique blade. The weapon itself was made of a strange mineral known as cortosis. It was a rare substance, but when found in large enough amounts to make something, it was truly miraculous. It was lightweight, and when forged into a blade, was sharp enough to tear through almost anything that could be brought to bear against it. It even possessed the strange ability to deflect plasma and energy fire back at the one who was doing the shooting. When crafted into armor, it encased its wearer in something that was nearly indestructible, able to resist everything from energy bolts to flamethrowers and even corrosive acids.

Thus, her two foes were about to find themselves at a very severe disadvantage.

Just as the two mechanized guards were about the turn the corner, she leapt out, unloading her Deecee into the torso of the first one. At full auto, the rifle was capable of unleashing an impressive fifteen rounds a second, and the Swatbot quickly found itself turned into swiss cheese, its vision going dark even as its primitive computer brain attempted to figure out what had just happened to it.

Its partner didn't fare much better, as, caught off guard by the sudden aggressiveness of the target, it stood stock still as Sally lashed out with her blade. There was a metallic shrieking sound that split the air, and the bot fell over backwards, its legs severed at the kneecaps. Not wasting a single second, the princess got up and slammed the sword into the battery of the robotic guard. It gave a quiet, electronic moan, and the light in its photocheptor went out.

She glanced down at the mission clock on her HUD, and discovered that they were two minutes into the mission.

"Sally here, where are you guys?" she hissed into her comm. link, looking around while sparing a glance at the charge counter for her plasma rifle's power pack, before opting to reload.

"Coming, mai' princess." Antoine replied, his tone rather apologetic.

A moment later, two soldiers emerged from an alleyway. The first was a rabbit, heavily built and wearing what at first glance would have passed for full body covering, heavy ferrosteel battle armor. However, closer inspection of the Mobian revealed that the armor in fact only covered her torso and right arm. The remaining limbs were composed of metal and circuitry, as opposed to flesh and blood, the result of Julian's dreaded roboticizer.

Right behind her was a coyote, who was clad in a lighter version of Bunnie's armor. He stared around nervously, clutching at a submachine gun, while a saber dangled from his waist.

"Glad you two made it alright. Geoff, where are you?" she inquired, hoping that the man hadn't gotten himself into trouble.

"Right here, luv," The resistance fighter said, emerging form the shadows of another building, waving his right arm, upon which was a wrist mounted bowcaster.

Sally rolled her eyes behind her visor. By the Goddess, she hated it when he called her that.

"Sonic?" she spoke into the mike, not at all surprised when she got an immediate response.

"Still cruising through the streets, trying to find something other than the regular clankers." He said, sounding very bored with his assignment at the current moment. "So far no sign of…" he paused for a second, and Sally could have sworn she heard the grin come over his face. "Scratch that, Sal, here comes my evil twin now."

"Be careful." She warned him, well aware of just how dangerous his nemesis could be.

"Don't worry bout a thing, I got it all under control," He replied, confidence brimming in his voice. "With that little surprise you and Rote cooked up for me, I'll dust Mecha in one minute, two tops."

A few seconds later, he gave out a taunt to his mechanical double, and Sally knew that he chase was on. She felt a moment of concern come over her, a pang of fear that something bad might befall the hedgehog, but she quickly brushed it off, knowing that there was nothing that she could do except play out her part in this raid. She calmly put her sword back in its scabbard, and slung her plasma rifle over her shoulder, before reaching down and pulling out her personal computer, Nicole, from the strap on her thigh.

Nicole represented the absolute pinnacle of Mobian computer technology. While lacking in the personality department, and having a tendency to ramble on in long, extremely complicated sentences, she was an AI construct of the highest caliber, capable of doing everything from hacking to decoding to giving you what you needed to know about a certain native life form. Needless to say, she was quite a handy little thing, and had saved their lives more than once.

Taking out a link up cord, Sally quickly hooked the computer up to the security panel of the factory door. Nicole knew what to do, and cracking the encryption protocols took her all of four seconds. As the doors slowly slid open, the group quickly readied their weapons, just in case an ambush force lay inside of the facility.

However, no ambush party was to be found, and they quickly stepped inside and began to head for the primary control room and other such vital areas.

* * *

Sonic heard Mecha before he saw him, as the mechanized copy of himself was the only other thing besides himself in this Goddess forsaken wasteland that could make that strange sonic boom when he moved at full speed. He let Sally know about his progress and then waited for the inevitable arrival of his foe. 

Having long ago left the other units in the dust, the blue furred hedgehog merely leaned against one of the buildings, whistling a small tune to himself and idly gazing at his gloves.

About two seconds later, his nemesis became visible. Though he would never mention it, there was something about seeing the android that always creeped him out. It was just how he looked, so much like himself, but devoid of anything resembling true life and the emotions that he so highly valued.

It was how he'd imagined he would look if he ever got tossed into the roboticizer… like a darker side of himself, the potential evil that lurked within his soul if the big round guy ever managed to capture him.

He quickly shook such thoughts from his head, knowing that he would need everything in his arsenal to be able to best his 'dark side,' and that concentration would be among one of those things.

"Jeez, took you long enough, Mecha." he quipped, pretending to look at his watch. "I swear you get slower every time Buttnik sends you out here to try to haul me in."

The red eyes of the android glowed a shade brighter upon hearing the insult, and he clenched his clawed hands into fists.

"Keep talking, meat bag," Mecha snarled, his voice also disturbingly like Sonic's, save for the electronic distortion that was in it, "it'll make it all the sweeter when I do grab you!"

"You say that every single time the two of us square off against each other, and I have yet to see it happen," The organic hedgehog replied, a smirk upon his face. "So why don't we just quit talking and cut to the chase, mmh?"

Without waiting for an answer, the resistance soldier bolted, kicking up a plume of dust and debris behind him. For a few milliseconds, this sudden departure caught Mecha off guard, but he quickly revved up his afterburners and shot off after Sonic, his eyes blazing as he flexed his talons, remembering that Robotnik had requested that the miserable hedgehog was to be captured by any means necessary. While that did not allow for Mecha to use his onboard weaponry, it would certainly allow for some degree of physical pain and suffering, and his processor enjoyed the idea of taking his pound of flesh before handing his foe over to his master.

Shooting out of the alley way and onto one of the main streets, the android caught sight of his fleeing nemesis, and he kicked his thrusters up as high as they could go, determined to catch up to Sonic and make him pay for the insults that he had suffered at his hands.

However, wanting something such as that to happen, and actually managing to catch an anomaly like Sonic, were two entirely different matters, and try as he might, the android found that he could only gain distance slowly, his organic counterpart gradually getting closer as they raced around the city.

Sonic merely smirked once again, and had to resist the urge to laugh, lest Mecha get the notion that he was indeed up to something. This was all going so smoothly, and if his luck held out, he'd be back up with Sal and the others inside of five minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye, the hedgehog noticed that there was a spy eye surveillance camera following him as best it could, watching the action, and he knew that Robotnik must have been watching.

"Hey, Buttnik!" he called out, knowing how much the taunting nickname enraged the overlord. "Enjoying the race? Hope you haven't placed your bets on tinny back there." He remarked, and gestured in Mecha's direction.

With his enhanced auditory receptors, the android heard the insult, and felt his rage double. With a mechanical scream that would have made most quiver in fear, he willed himself to move faster, never once pausing to think that he might be walking right into a trap.

* * *

From the central control room of Robotroplis, two figures were busy watching the action. One hovered back in the shadows, clad in somber gray, a thin, small and frail looking man who probably had less than twelve hairs upon his head, and a nose that looked like it would have been more appropriate on a person twice his size. 

The other, was virtually the polar opposite of the first. He sat in a massive command chair, around which several keyboards and control panels were stationed. The man himself was no less imposing, being every bit of six and a half feet tall, and looking as if he weighed the better part of two hundred kilos. However, beneath that bulk lurked quite a bit of muscle, as anyone unfortunate enough to have drawn his ire while standing too close could inform you.

Complimenting this already sinister appearance was the man's attire, which was mostly a jumpsuit the color of fresh blood, with two armored shoulder pauldrons, each having a pair of triangular parts stacked on top of each other and connected by a rising metal brace that ran from his chest to the bottom of his shoulder blades, made him seem larger than he already was. There was also a long cape attached to the back, which came down to about his calves when he stood.

Julian Ivo Kintobor, or Robotnik, as he called himself, watched with crimson eyes as Mecha tailed his organic nemesis, all the while rubbing his left arm. This limb was mechanical, a painful reminder of one of his encounters with a certain blue furred Mobian. An evil grin was upon his face as he watched what he was certain was to be the miserable rodent's final run.

Sonic might not have been calling the shots for the Freedom Fighters, but Robotnik knew enough of their organization to realize that if he were to go down, it would be not only a tremendous tactical victory for himself, but a psychological one as well. The miserable rodent was a hero to his comrades, and it was often times from him that they drew the strength to keep on going in a seemingly hopeless war. That was also to say nothing of the times that Sonic had personally humiliated him and he had thus whished to see him turned into a mindless robot if for no other reason than to avenge those insults.

The other person present was the overlord's nephew and right hand man, Jonathan Kintobor, or Snivley, as Robotnik, and just about everyone else derisively referred to him as. Despite the apparent glamour that one would expect from such a position, the little man's lot in life was not something one would readily envy, as he was overworked, underappreciated, and had this tendency to become his uncle's punching bag when things went wrong.

Which is exactly what Snively was expecting to happen here today. Despite more than seven years of battling the blue speed demon, Robotnik had never learned to face facts that were blatantly obvious to his second in command. For starters, Julian had always insisted upon taking Sonic alive, whereas his nephew would have just as soon blasted him and be done with it. Secondly he observed, as Sonic led Mecha on a wild goose chase, his uncle never got it through his bullet shaped head that the rodent always played the role of decoy.

Something was rotten in Topeka.

Still, he kept his mouth shut, as he took what grim pleasure he could from his miserable existence watching his obese uncle trip over himself, and each time the Freedom Fighters bested Julian, it brought his own dream closer to being realized: the time when Robotnik would eventually be cast down and he could ascend to the throne. Then, those miserable little furballs would learn who the real genius was.

A feral scream from Mecha caused him to return his attention to the monitor, and he noticed what had happened. Sonic had stopped abruptly, and the android had shot past him, nearly crashing into a wall. The droid turned around, and Snively knew that had it been possible, the mechanized version of the hedgehog would have been foaming at the mouth. He never could understand why that thing would let Sonic get to him like that.

Anger clouded the mind more times than not, his own beatings at his uncle's hands could attest to that.

Sonic, ever one to rub it in, took the opportunity to give Mecha a mocking salute, and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud as the machine once again screamed in rage, before racing off after his organic counterpart.

The little man didn't know exactly what was about to happen, but he knew that the android was about to run headlong into a trap.

He sighed quietly, lest he attract Julian's attention. Why did it seem that there were days that he was the only one who used his head around this place?

* * *

"Come on, Mecha, is that the best you can do?" Sonic called out as he looked over his shoulder at the rampaging android. "You're slipping up, old buddy, might wanna drop by the repair shop sometime, ya know what I mean?" 

He was laughing on the inside, getting his robotic double all worked up with these little taunts. Inwardly he mused over a sudden bit of curiosity that he had, wondering why in the world Buttnik, with all of his professed genius, could create a nigh perfect replication of himself, but couldn't bother to make it immune to such immature taunting that was causing the droid to become careless and sloppy. Even as impatient and reckless as he could be at times, Sonic was well aware of the fact that if he had ever gotten as hotheaded as Mecha was getting right now, that Sal would have broken one of Bunnie's jujitsu quarterstaffs over his head.

Oh well, yet another reason why that over glorified pack of silicon chips was absolutely no match for the original.

He hung a left turn when he reached an intersection, placing him on a route that would take him back towards the factory that Sally was trying to turn into a crater. The android that was on his tail was slowly gaining on him, and Sonic knew that the chase had gone on long enough. It was time to put an end to this little game of cat and mouse and rejoin the others.

He pivoted about suddenly, racing straight at a rather tall building, before leaping up at the last possible second. He hit the wall, and kept running up it, the extreme speeds that he was capable of reaching enabling him to overpower gravity. His foe was right behind him, just as he had hoped. Upon reaching the top, Sonic quickly bolted towards the edge, and then turned to face his nemesis, who had just cleared the edge as well, and was now dashing at him, talons extended and gleaming in what little moonlight was able to filter down through the smog.

"Got you!" Mecha screamed in triumph, a wicked grin upon his metallic visage. However, that smirk quickly turned to a frown of confusion as his organic counterpart smiled a crooked smile, reaching back into his backpack and drawing something from within it.

At first, the android believed that it was a power ring, and braced himself, his processor brain trying to figure out the best course of attack should Sonic decide to play his trump card. However, that was not to be the case, as the resistance soldier instead yanked out a small, gray disc like object. Without any further warning, he chucked it at the charging bot.

Mecha realized on an instinctive level that to come into contact with that thing, whatever it was, would not be in his best interests, and so he tried to evade. However, he was moving too fast, and had too little warning to be able to successfully dodge it. The disc hit him dead center in his chest, and stuck fast. He knew a moment of confusion, before something that he could only later recall as a blinding agony began to shoot through him.

He didn't know that what Sonic had hit him with was a short range EMP mine, a nasty little device that Rotor and Sally had constructed back in Knothole for just such a purpose. Upon activation, the mine would send out high powered electromagnetic pulses within a five to six foot radius. These pulses were harmless to a living organism, but did nearly irreparable damage to most any form of circuitry caught in the blast.

And Mecha was one big walking pile of circuits.

Blinded by his agony, the machine slowed down, but not enough to avoid what was coming. Perhaps it was for the best that he wasn't truly aware of what was going on, as he would have been humiliated beyond words at the sight of Sonic, who was imitating a bull fighter, swishing a make believe cape back and forth as he charged past, and clean off the roof of the facility that they were on.

Laughing like a school boy, Sonic waved as Mecha found himself in gravity's tyrannical hold, and the hedgehog couldn't hold back a mocking wince as he saw his nemesis hit the ground a few seconds later, broken and still sparking as wires and circuits shorted out. He then looked back over his shoulder, a cocky grin still upon his face as he noticed that the spy eye watched the whole thing. He suddenly had the hilarious mental image of old bullet head turning purple with impotent rage, and he decided to try to add further insult to injury.

"Well," he remarked, glancing down into the alley, some ten stories below, "I sure hope the warranty on him is still good."

He took just enough time to buzz saw his way through the observation probe, before he once again was dashing through the ruined city, this time heading for the factory.

In the distance, the resistance soldier thought that he could hear a scream of anger and denial, and once more chuckled to himself as he shook his head.

Goddess, how he loved his job.

* * *

Things had been quiet thus far, but Sally knew that there had to be security bots around here somewhere. Much as she hated to admit it, Robotnik wasn't stupid enough to leave a factory without guards on the inside as well as the outside. 

Sure enough, her gut instinct proved to be right once again, as a group of about six Swat Bots came out and attempted to ambush them in a narrow hallway. Fortunately for herself and the others, there were a couple of small alcoves that they were able to duck into.

However, not before Sally took a round in the stomach, between the solid plates of the armor. Fortunately, despite the underweave's simple, cloth like appearance, the Nagai armor that she wore was up to the task, and the only thing that she felt was a slight tingling sensation as the suit absorbed and dispersed the energy behind the bolt.

Geoffrey also took a couple of hits before he could get himself out of the way, though his ferrosteel combat suit was also up to the task of keeping him protected.

Bunnie, her reflexes honed by years of arduous martial arts training, faired a little better, throwing Antoine into one of the alcoves, and promptly diving on top of him. This was not merely because of the feelings the two of them shared, but also due to the fact that her boyfriend had about fifteen kilos of high yield charges strapped to his back, and if those took fire…well, at least they wouldn't have to worry about whether they whished to be buried or cremated.

Sally looked across the narrow hallway to where Geoffrey was, and gave him a quick nod as they silently agreed on what they should do.

The two of them leaned out at about the same time, and fired their weapons. Sally's Deecee dropped one bot, a trio of large holes appearing in it. There was another cracking sound an instant later, and Geoff once again proved how adept he was with his bowcaster.

The weapon itself was a rather strange and exotic one, but it got the job done. Styled after the crossbow of the ancient days of warfare, the bowcaster used a coil of polarizing magnets to throw out a small particle charge at extremely high velocity, and was fired by holding the wrist at a certain angle and then applying pressure to a trigger held in the palm of the hand.

Between that and her plasma rifle, they quickly brought down the half dozen Swatbots that were trying to hold them off.

More came after that though, and Sally muttered a quiet oath. Dumb as these clankers were, they possessed a single minded determination to carry out their tasks, and were also not programmed to know fear or have any thoughts of self preservation should things get rough. This made them tenacious foes when engaging large numbers of them, which was a scenario that the princess and her forces tried to avoid at all costs.

However, they were about to receive some backup.

She heard the noise, a faint rumbling with a high pitched shriek thrown in as well, and she smiled in a grim fashion, knowing that the bots that had shown up to replace the ones they'd destroyed were about to be heading straight for the recycling bin. A blue and black blur shot past a moment later, and she stuck her head out just in time to see Sonic curl up and leap up to the head level of the first Swat Bot. The mechanized guard realized what was about to happen, but had no chance to react as Sonic's spines, razor edged when he stiffened them, bisected its metal cranium. It collapsed to the ground, twitching as it went offline for good.

The blue furred hedgehog wasted not time in taking its closest comrade out while he was at it, bouncing off of the metal floor of the hallway and nailing it right through its torso. It emitted an electronic death wail as Sonic emerged from the other side, where he uncurled and landed on his feet.

He stayed there just long enough to change his angle of attack, before leaping up once again and curling up, this time at a more horizontal angle. This resulted in lucky bot number three being cleanly decapitated even as it tried to sight him up.

Sally just smirked and rolled her eyes as he managed to demolish the remaining five in less than as many seconds.

The hedgehog stood up as he finished, looking around to admire his handiwork, before shaking his quills out and looking back to the others.

"You guys planning on leaving me out of a perfectly good scrap?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Sally.

"Show off," Geoffrey muttered, frowning at the other resistance soldier.

"Hey, when you're as good as I am, you don't need to show off," Sonic replied with a cocky grin, which faded quickly as he saw the slight bit of discoloration on Sally's armor from where she had been shot.

"You okay, Sal?" he asked, the usual tone gone from his voice, replaced by a large amount of concern.

"I'm fine. What about Mecha?" the princess asked, hoping that their little plan had worked.

Relieved that she was okay, his usual demeanor quickly returned.

"You might say he's not all together these days," Sonic remarked in an offhand manner, shrugging while he was at it.

"So the EMP mine worked?" she said, eager to know if all the time that had been put into constructing that thing had been worth it.

"Like a charm, Sal." Was the response that she got.

"Let us just be moving along please?" Came Antoine's voice, slightly muffled due to the fact that his girlfriend was still covering him up. "I would be liking it very much to get these demonstration charges off my back!"

"That's 'demolitions' charges, Ant." The hedgehog said with a mirth filled laugh.

"That is what I was to be saying, no?" the coyote responded as Bunnie got up and helped him to his feet.

"Sonic, take the point," Sally said, wanting to get back on track, accentuating the order with a rapid hand gesture. "Bunnie, keep Antoine covered and Geoff, you help her out."

There was a round of nodding as they headed off towards their goal.

* * *

Reaching into the pack that was on the coyote's back, Sally withdrew another demo pack charge and placed it on the central control panel of the command room. 

They had brought a grand total of about thirty of the charges, and were in the process of placing them at strategic points within the factory. Sonic was getting some of the more outlying ones, and as she looked out through the observation window, she could see him running around down below, ducking between the assembly lines and ensuring that the factory's destruction would be complete and total.

They had to work fast, though, as it wouldn't take long for Robotnik to catch on to what they were up to. For this purpose, she had Nicole plugged into one of the central computer mainframes of the factory, which was interconnected with all of the others in the city, from which the AI was monitoring the enemy battle net for anything pertaining to their little activity.

It was a very good thing that she did something like that, as about thirty seconds after she'd placed the charge on the control panel, Nicole began to warble, and all eyes were on her in an instant.

"Nicole, what's wrong?" the princess inquired, fishing out another demo pack from the pack Antoine had.

"I have detected battle net traffic pertaining to this Swatbot factory," the small computer replied, her primary screen flashing and showing a holographic display of all the chatter upon it. "I believe that the enemy has both discerned our location and have realized our purpose for being in this place."

"So the jig's up then?" St. John asked, looking up from his work.

"Seems like it," Sally told him, before looking back out where Sonic was running along a wall, heading for a computer module on the second tier that was a failsafe backup station in the event of the primary control being knocked out.

"Sonic!" she said, her voice loud in hopes of grabbing his attention over the noise he made while he raced around. "We've got to go; I think Robotnik's figured out what we're up to!"

"Read you loud and clear, Sal, He remarked, not at all worried. "Just let me get this last charge placed and I'll be back over there with you guys.

A half second later, he reached the control module, and quickly placed his final demo pack.

He never really understood much about high tech machinery, too many working parts for his liking, but there was something that he simply found amazing about these little charges that Rotor kept churning out. They were pretty small rectangular objects, weighing little more than a pound, and weren't much bigger than the palm of his hand. However, inside such a tiny package was enough explosive material to reduce a small building to a smoldering ruin (as the poor walrus had found out the hard way when his first attempts at making them had gone slightly awry).

He pressed the red arming sequencer button and stepped back. The charge was set for remote detonation now, so that they wouldn't have any timers to worry about or things of that nature.

"Charge set," He remarked, smiling at the thought of the destruction that he was about to unleash.

"Then let's get out of here," Sally responded over the comm. link.

"Taxi's on its way, Sal," the hedgehog told her, revving up and shooting back towards the central control chamber.

Once he had arrived, it took only a moment for everyone to form a chain and grab a hold of him. He quickly broke out into a run and then they were gone, a faint rumble, some trashed Swatbots, and thirty nasty little surprises being the only things that they left in their wake.

* * *

As soon as they were clear, Sally reached into her utility belt, and drew out the remote control for the demo charges. She used her thumb to depress the two buttons on the top of the device, and then pulled the trigger on it. 

For a brief instant, night became day as the massive factory became something that could only be compared to a small nova, and gave off a shockwave so great that it nearly blew Sonic off of his feet.

As it was, it was felt even back at the central command chamber.

* * *

Robotnik cocked an eyebrow and screamed a curse as the building rumbled and nearly knocked him from his command chair. Snively, however, merely groaned, as he had a good notion that he knew what had happened. That miserable hedgehog and his comrades had just blown something up, something big or close by the feel of it. Knowing that something was up, he'd quietly ordered the Swatbots to head to certain key locations, lest his uncle, furious over what had happened to Mecha, use it as a reason to hurt him. But it looked as if he hadn't done it fast enough. 

"Snively, get a spy eye to look around, find out what the hell that blast was!" his uncle shouted, spittle flying from his mouth and his eyes having a dangerous, even more psychotic than normal look to them.

"Y-yes sir." The little man muttered, quietly praying that he would be able to walk out of this one with no injuries this time… or at least with all of his ribs intact.

His hands racing over the keyboard of a control panel, he searched around until he was able to find a probe that still worked properly, as it seemed as though the shockwave had knocked a good number of them out. Once he finally did have one, he quickly had the thing pivot around.

Four seconds later, it discovered the source of the blast, and Snively felt himself go a few shades paler than he normally was.

Swatbot factory number three had officially been reduced to rubble, and his uncle, already infuriated by the fact that he would have to put Mecha back together for the umpteenth time, went ballistic.

Or at least, he was about to, as Snively could hear his labored breathing, and turning around, saw his eyes glowing like coals while his robotic left arm closed around the arm rest of his chair with such force that he could actually see the metal start to buckle under the pressure.

"Snively…" Julian growled, his tone lace with an explosive rage that threatened to boil over at any second.

"Sir?" he said, and he felt sweat begin to run down his head, and he couldn't hold back a gulp.

"If you value your ability to breath, you will leave this room now!" the overlord of Mobius roared, slamming both of his fists down onto the arm rests of his chair.

Snively took off like a bullet from a gun, but he still wasn't fast enough. As he tore past his uncle, Robotnik lashed out, backhanding him and sending him careening towards the door. The door, while motion activated when not under emergency conditions, did not open fast enough, and the poor overlander smashed into it with a loud thud. Adding to the pain that he was feeling was the fact that his 'beloved' uncle had popped him with his cybernetic limb, and judging by the pain in his chest, had bruised a rib or two while he was at it.

As the door finally opened, Snively crawled out as fast as he could manage. Blood starting to leak into his left eye and he realized that his impact against the door had given him a large gash upon his forehead.

"I hate my life," he muttered, coughing painfully as he continued to try to flee the vicinity of Julian's wrath.

Silently, though, he swore that when the time came, that he would achieve the power that should have rightfully have been his.

From behind, even through the six inch thick ferrosteel that the command room door had been constructed from, he could hear a roared phrase that he had heard all too often of late.

"I hate that hedgehog!"

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Well, there's chapter one down, about fourteen or so more to go. I sincerely hope that this has proven itself worthy your time, and that it isn't as horrible as I think it is. With any luck, I've portrayed the cast as they should have been, and not the bastardized versions from the newer comics that some of you might be familiar with. 

That said, any advice, comments, constructive criticism (please, I really need to improve!), or ideas on weapons and the like that you would like to see are more than welcome. But, as stated above, please, no bashing the characters. Feel free to flame me and my inability to write (and any OCs that may show up) but please leave the canon cast out of it.

Thanks once again for your time, and I hope you have a great day.


	2. Getting A Little Closer

Hello everyone, good to see you all again. As someone who's really new to this section, I want to thank everyone who took the time to leave me feedback, and I hope that I can continue to improve and become a more skilled writer. (bows)

For those of you who read this story, but did not review, I sincerely hope that it was worth your time and effort, and that it did not leave you wishing you could have a slight case of amnesia and forget about it.

A special thanks goes out to Farr2rich for helping me to proofread this thing.

One final note, for those of you not familiar with my writings, this chapter is romance based, and I suck horribly at that genre, and this is also where the AU stuff starts to pop up. Just thought you deserved a heads up.

Lawyers: You know the drill, I don't own anything except what my demented mind manages to think up.

That said, here's chapter two.

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Getting A Little Closer

The stars twinkled overhead, and the sound of chirping crickets mixed with the crackling fire to form a setting that would have seemed idealistic and peaceful by almost anyone's standards. Looking around at the various Freedom Fighters, the way they joked and laughed one might think that this was some sort of high school camping trip, rather than a debriefing of a bunch of hardened soldiers that had been fighting for their future and right to live for almost as long as they could remember.

However, after a time, their 'fearless leader' emerged from her hut, and made her way over towards them, a smile evident upon her face.

"Yo, Sal," Sonic said, acknowledging her presence with a wave of his hand. "So what's the final word on our 'radical restructuring maneuver'?"

"Better than we could have hoped," She said, her eyes glowing in the firelight as she brought out Nicole and activated the computer.

A series of holographic readouts appeared, most of which showed a bunch of numbers that Sonic didn't understand, but thinking of that sort was the princess' department, not his.

"From what Uncle Chuck's telling us," she began pointing to one particular group of numbers, "by destroying that factory, we've managed to cut Robotnik's production of Swat Bots in half." She paused, looking around to them all. "Even better, factory number two is down for maintenance and upgrading at the moment, so that just leaves him with one…" she paused, letting the effect to settle into the rest of the group.

"Meaning that he's sure enough gonna have some problems guarding everything," Bunnie said, placing her arm around Antoine, a grin splitting across her face.

"Why do I have the sinking feeling that we are about to start working overtime?" Sonic remarked all of a sudden, rubbing his chin and scratching his head as he pretended to be in deep and serious thought.

"Right for once in your life," Sally retorted playfully, laughing as she caused a mock pout to come over the blue speed demon.

"Hey, I have been right plenty of times I'll have you know!" the hedgehog retorted, placing his hand against his chest and assuming the air of a arrogant noble, causing everyone present (except for Geoffrey, who merely rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath) to break out into laughter.

Bunnie sighed once she'd gotten a hold of herself, watching as the two bantered back and forth for a few more moments. She wondered when those two were finally going to come clean with each other, as while she got a good laugh out of watching them flirt, she just wished they'd hurry up and commit.

* * *

For some time, the debriefing had continued, the topics of discussion ranging from new tactics that they might attempt to the prioritization of targets for up and coming raids.

At last, about two hours later, the fire had burned low, and the troopers had gone their separate ways.

Sally opted to walk around the forest village that had been her home since she was five. She ran a hand through her shoulder length, auburn hair, sighing slightly as she did so.

It was approaching the thirteen anniversary of Robotnik's coup, of the dreadful day in which he had overthrown the government of her father and turned most of the population in to his robotic slaves. She and a few others had managed to escape as Sir Charles, or Uncle Chuck, as he preferred to be called, had secreted them away to this place. Unfortunately, the kindly old scientist had been amongst the first to be captured by Julian, who had put him through the roboticizer with fiendish glee.

However, that had proven to be something that would return to haunt the despot. Some time back, they had managed to free his mind from the hold that Robotnik had upon it, and the mechanized scientist had served on as a spy amongst the enemy ever since.

Of late, things had taken a turn for the better, as her father had been recovered from the Void, an alternate dimension that Julian had sent him to when he'd overthrown the government. Her brother had also been recently rediscovered, hiding off in a remote region of the planet under Geoffrey St. John's care, along with an entire battalion of soldiers. Uniting the two forces together had almost doubled the size of their numbers, bringing them up to more than five hundred serviceable troopers under her father's command. This had enable them to start launching bolder, more aggressive attacks upon the overlord, such as a raid a few weeks ago in which they had wiped out an entire supply convoy and the regiment of Swat Bots that had guarded it.

Granted, there had been a few changes that had to be made, for the regulars that Geoff had had with him were standard infantry for the most part, and weren't exactly well trained in the covert style that was required for this kind of war. They knew the basics, but they were nowhere near as good as the guerillas that Sally had under her command. Many of the soldiers had found it a little difficult to swallow their pride as members of the King's military and learn the basic four one one on this kind of warfare from a bunch of people who hadn't even seen a day in boot camp.

On top of that, she had the distinct feeling that her father didn't fully trust her with her own duties.

Sally shook her head as she continued to walk through the woods, heading over to the pool where the Ring Generator was. It just got so frustrating at times. She loved her family and was overjoyed to have them back in her life after so long, but there were times when she just knew that she was still a child in the king's eyes, the little girl he remembered right before everything went to Hell in a hand basket. Never mind the fact that she was eighteen years old, or that she'd been leading raids on Robotropolis since she was eleven, that she had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was capable of commanding troops, and that she could gun down a Swat Bot with a single pull of a trigger. She was still just their little 'Bean,' as her father so affectionately called her.

At least her brother Elias saw her for more than that.

It was also no secret that her father disapproved of the company that she kept. King Acorn liked Antoine well enough, seeing as how he was the son of one of his top generals, and he seemed to tolerate Rotor due to his aptitude for all things mechanical, but everyone else seemed to get him a little ruffled. Bunnie managed to grate on his nerves with her straightforwardness and lack of formal manners, and she had the distinct feeling that the fact that the rabbit was partially roboticized unnerved him to a degree.

And that was to say nothing of how he felt about Sonic.

She didn't fully understand why, but her father just did not seem to like him, and it seemed as though it was almost borderline hatred at times. When asked about it, he always told her he disliked him for his brashness, his impatience, and the fact that he seemed to always manage to get her into danger. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. There was just something in his eye when he stared at the hedgehog that made her think that his contempt went far deeper than that, and it bothered her.

Sonic was impatient, something she had learned in the first five minutes that she'd known him, but there was a caring heart underneath that brashness and cocky attitude, one that wouldn't hesitate to lay his life on the line for his friends, as he had proven many times in the past. There were also times that he acted more than a little immature, but she knew the truth, all of his friends did.

They'd just been five when the coup had happened, and having their whole families and lives ripped away from them had been traumatizing, to say the least. Each of them had found a different means of coping with what they had seen, and for Sonic, his joking and wisecracking was just his way of trying to find some semblance of normality in his life. His means of simply trying to salvage what was left of his stolen and shattered childhood.

It was the same with all of them, the problems that occurred when children were forced to grow up too soon, and had seen too much in their short lives.

Laughter suddenly split the air, and she turned to look at the source of it.

A soccer ball went sailing by, about fifty feet to her left, stopped by a very familiar red shoe.

"Nice try, big guy," Sonic said, before dribbling the ball around with his feet, "but you're going to have to better than that."

As he finished speaking, he stuck his foot underneath the checkered ball, and then knocked it up into the air, before sending it flying towards the other Mobian that was present.

"Oh yeah, just wait, Sonic!" came far more youthful voice, and Sally couldn't hold back a smile.

The speaker was Miles 'Tails' Prower, a young fox kit that had been with them for most of his life. Sonic had found him in Robotropolis nearly eight years ago, and the two had been like brothers ever since. Tails, aptly nicknamed because he possessed a pair of said appendages, had quickly proven to be a steadying influence that was badly needed in Sonic's life, as the hedgehog would go out of his way to set a good example for his 'little bro.' The two of them were nearly inseparable when Sonic wasn't dashing off on a mission, and it showed in the ways that Tails emulated the older Freedom Fighter.

Fortunately, some of Sonic's less desirable qualities had been tempered out by another large influence upon the kit: herself. Sally had been a surrogate mother to the young cub, despite the fact that she had only been about ten when he'd first been brought to live with them. That was another fact that her father seem to overlook when he worried about her, that she'd had the maturity to rear up a youngster at that age.

The princess was abruptly snapped out of her musings as she realized that the soccer ball was on the move again, this time heading towards her at a rather alarming speed. With reflexes that were the result of several years of training herself, she snapped her left leg up, stopping the ball with her kneecap.

"Sorry about that, Aunt Sally." Tails said, and the ground squirrel couldn't help but shake her head and smile once again.

"It's okay, but I do believe that it is past your bedtime, Tails." She remarked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the cub.

"Awwww," the little kit moaned, kicking at the ground with his sneaker, "can't I stay up a little longer, please?" he begged, doing his best to give her the 'sad puppy eyes' look.

"Yeah, Sal," Sonic piped up, "I promised him I'd play another round with him."

The ground squirrel shook her head at both requests, determined to hold her ground this time. She then gestured to the small hut that Tails had, a silent command for him to get to bed. The cub's face fell, but he didn't argue further, turning around and heading for his home, his namesakes drooping behind him.

"Ahh, don't worry about it, big guy," Sonic said, walking over to his little brother, "she's just worried that you're going to get good enough to beat her in this game."

"What was that?" the princess shot back at him, narrowing her azure eyes to a glare.

"You heard me," Sonic remarked, a playful tone in his voice as he matched her stare.

"All right, buster, you asked for it!" she said, before rushing out and kicking the soccer ball right at the blue hedgehog.

With ease that bordered on contempt, Sonic jumped up and stopped the shot with his chest, though he couldn't hide a grimace a moment later as he realized just how much power Sally had put into the kick. Still, he managed to laugh it off, and with a look down at Tails, a free for all game soon began.

* * *

Sally figured that they must have gone on like that for an hour or so, until Tails really started to get tired. When he nearly got beaned in the head because he was yawning rather than paying attention to the ball, Sally put her foot down again, and she and Sonic quietly ushered the little kit back to his hut, tucking him in, while his beloved 'Aunt' gave him a goodnight kiss.

They then turned, and left the kit to his dreams.

The two of them walked side by side for a time, saying nothing, just staring around at the forest village. Abruptly, though, Sally sighed, and lowered her head to the ground.

"Something wrong, Sal?" Sonic asked, puzzled over what could have been the matter with the girl who held his heart in her hands.

"Just a little anxious about the future." was the reply that he got.

"What do you mean?" the hedgehog inquired, not fully understanding her.

"I just can't help but wonder," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders, "if what we've done today will really make a difference in the long run." She looked up and over at him, and found that he was giving her one of those 'you're kidding me, right?' looks. "I'm serious, Sonic," she said, and a frown appeared on his face. "Every time we hit Robotnik, no matter how badly or for how long, he always comes up standing. Nothing we've ever managed to do has ever kept him down for long, and he's just been playing defense for the most part."

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and the princess found herself getting lost in his shinning green eyes, which always seemed to have so much confidence in them, and she wondered what his secret was.

"Don't worry about it, Sal," He told her, serious for once in his life. "Sure, we haven't brought Buttnik down, but it's just a matter of time. All we have to do is keep chipping away at him, and he'll topple soon enough." He smiled once again, and once more reverted back to his joking self. "Besides, with all the raids we've got planned, maybe the stress will cause that withered old heart of his to go on strike and solve the problem for us."

Sally couldn't help it, she burst out laughing at the irony of the mental image came to her from that. The mighty Robotnik, felled by his own obesity, it was an amusing idea to say the least.

Despite his immaturity, his impatience, and his at times nerve wracking arrogance, Sonic Maurice Hedgehog could still say all the right things if he ever needed to, one more thing that she liked about him. It was part of the strange, dual personality that he always had, joking and devil may care one moment, serious and down to business the next. He was a warrior and a court jester rolled into one. He was a brother, a friend, a comrade.

And Sally found herself wishing that she could add one more detail to that list.

However, while he might have been able to thrash Swat Bots with out even breaking a sweat, stare Death in the face without so much a flinching, and have gotten incurring the wrath of the planet's overlord down to an art form, it seemed that when it came to getting the love of her life to fess up about his feelings, it was the one department that he fell short in. She never could understand why, perhaps it was some fear of rejection, as if that would happen. Nonetheless, the feelings she got when she dropped a hint to him and he shrugged it off were a strange combination of frustration and mild curiosity, and it made her wonder what went on inside his head, which she secretly suspected was a lot more than most people gave him credit for.

As they resumed their walk around the village, she kept stealing glances at him, wishing she could find the courage within her soul to tell him how she felt.

* * *

Once again, some time had passed, and their walk had eventually brought them back to Sally's hut. She had invited Sonic in, and he had taken her up on the invitation, drawing up a seat at the holo table that she used when planning raids.

They'd continued to chat back and forth about various different things for some time, covering topics that ranged from beloved childhood memories, to discussions of how best to infiltrate their next target. Granted, Sonic wasn't much help on the infiltration part, but he was still capable of offering a different point of view on it, which meant that Sally could troubleshoot her strategy.

The hour had swiftly grown late, though, and at last, the hedgehog had gotten up and prepared to leave. However, as he had approached the door, something had come over Sally.

The ground squirrel had been thinking about their relationship, and she had up and decided that if things were ever going to proceed, that she was going to have to be the one to make the first move. Muttering a quiet prayer to the Goddess that she knew what she was doing, the princess tapped Sonic on the shoulder as he went to leave.

"Yeah…" he began, only to be silenced by Sally placing her lips over his own.

For a moment, his emerald eyes opened to their fullest, as this had taken him off guard. However, after he realized exactly what was going on, he sent a silent thank you to the heavens. He'd never imagined Sally could be so forward, but he was grateful nonetheless, as it saved him the trouble of trying to work up the courage to confess his feelings and not get tongue tied in the process, something he'd never been able to do, despite his many subtle attempts.

He closed his eyes, and decided to take a slight risk, reaching out and stroking the hair of the ground squirrel as she placed her hands upon his cheeks.

After a few more seconds, they parted, and both of them promptly felt their faces redden until they likely would have given a ripe beet a run for its money.

"I, err…" Sonic muttered, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting.

"Yeah…" Sally responded, scratching the back of her head, before taking a deep breath. "Sorry, but I needed to do that Sonic."

"I know, Sal." He told her, quiet once more. "I…"

She placed a gentle finger against his mouth, shushing him.

"Sonic, I know that letting others know how you feel isn't one of your fortes," she told him, and he found himself once more lost in her eyes, "but I want you to know how much I love you." She then kissed him again.

This time it was more passionate than the first, she placed her hands on his shoulders as he gently pulled her closer to him. They kissed again after that, holding it for a time, each taking some comfort in the arms of the one they cared for so much. For Sally, it was a relief, as she finally let the soldier she held so dear know how she felt after all these years. It was much the same in Sonic's case, and the hedgehog felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, though one thing did worry him a little bit. Their embrace was becoming fiercer by the moment, and he had a distinct feeling that if they didn't stop that this was going to go rather far.

"Sal," he said as they broke away again, looking her in the eye, "are you…"

"Sonic," she replied, matching his stare, "I love you, and I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

"But your father?" he remarked with a frown, not wishing to incur the wrath of the king, which was the stuff of legends.

"I am tired of my father trying to rule my life, Sonic," The princess answered with a growl, though he could tell that the anger was not directed at him. "I'm just a child to him, a kid. He needs to realize that I am a mature adult who can make her own decisions and live with the consequences of them."

Sonic nodded, accepting her reasoning, and the two of them reached a silent decision then.

* * *

Some hours later, he awoke, his eyes piercing the darkness of the night. He looked down, and smiled as he saw his love, still held securely between his arms.

She was so beautiful when she slept, so at peace. When freed of the shackles of the waking world and the dark, tyrannical reality that came with it, she was even more lovely and serene. He reached out, and gently traced a hand along her cheek, while taking comfort in the feeling of her heart beating against his chest. He wished that things could remain like this forever, with no Robotnik to trouble the world, no impending doom leering over their heads should their secret location ever be discovered. It made the hedgehog long for a simpler time, when there had been no war, only the games of childhood.

How long he remained like that, he could not later recall, but eventually, he felt the princess begin to stir. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up a bit at him, a smile gracing her angelic face as she did so.

"Morning, Sal," The hedgehog said, leaning forward and kissing her.

"Morning, Sonic," She said after they had broken away, a coy smile upon her face. "Sleep well?"

"How could I not, with someone like you in my arms?" he responded with an equal amount of playfulness. "How about you?"

"For once, Robotnik wasn't a part of my dreams," She said, and he could sense great relief in her voice.

"I know what you mean," he muttered darkly, having had several nightmares of his own that had revolved around the tyrant. "But whadda say we not think about big, round and gruesome right now?"

"Fine by me," she said, grinning once more.

For some time, they lay together like that, talking about times past, and the hopes for times yet to come.

However, night passed swiftly, and soon, the eastern sky began to grow lighter. Sonic realized it was probably best for him to leave, as he had the distinct feeling that if he were to be discovered in the princess' hut under these circumstances that her father would likely string him up from the nearest tree.

They embraced again, and shared another kiss, before he got up, and slipped out the window, a smile shinning in his eyes as he bade farewell to the holder of his heart.

As he was slipping back to his hut, though, he was observed by someone.

Antoine had been grumbling about having drawn the watch for this early in the morning, and was on his way to relieve the previous shift at the northern border of the village. However, movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to snap his attention away from the path in front of him.

He saw a dark silhouette sneaking out of a window of Sally's hut. He squinted his eyes, trying to pierce the shadows and see who it was. The figure turned slightly, and it was then that the royal guard observed several telltale spines. While he might have had some trouble with the English language (though Bunnie was helping him to improve), and that butchery might have made him the butt of many jokes about his intelligence, Antoine was by no means an idiot, and he quickly deduced what was going on.

"It is being about time." He muttered to himself, a crooked grin appearing on his muzzle.

He then turned and resumed his march towards his post.

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Okay, for those of you who have not hit the back button in disgust at my inability to write, I hope you have found this enjoyable, and not too sappy.

Once again, I apologize for the deviation from the standard SatAM story line, and I hoe you will forgive me for it. As it is, expect more AU in coming chapters, as well as things to start going downhill for our heroes.

Finally, any advice, constructive criticism (which is sorely needed), ideas on weapons and whatnot, and even flaming the author (not the characters) is welcomed with open arms.

Thank you all, and please have a great week.


	3. A Warrior's Fall

Hello everyone, it's good to see you again.

I want to take the time here and now to apologize to anyone who might have been put off or offended by what happened in the last chapter, and let me assure you there will be no such repeat of those actions under those circumstances (though I am quite certain you could find other, legitimate reasons to hate me after this chapter).

At any rate, many thanks to everyone who reviewed, and for those of you who read but did not review, I sincerely hope that you found it worth your time and effort.

Word of warning to everyone, we're back to the battle scenes here, and this is where things start getting dark. Sorry if this irritates, annoys, or angers anyone, (feel free to let me know if it does), but it's the way the story is going to go.

Lawyers: don't own a thing, so stop threatening to sue.

That said, here is chapter three, may it be worth your while.

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A Warrior's Fall

One week had passed since the destruction of the Swat Bot factory, one week since she and Sonic had taken that gigantic leap forward in their commitment to each other. Sally smiled as she thought back to that night, one that she knew that she would remember and treasure till time came to an end.

The two lovers had hardly found time for each other after that though. After all, there was a war that needed to be fought, and the next several days had been filled with raid after raid as the Knothole Freedom Fighters, and several other groups as well, hammered Robotnik with everything they could. Power plants, production facilities, mining operations and military supply depots, all had been targeted and destroyed, and Uncle Chuck's status reports indicated that they were well on their way to dealing a domino effect style of devastation to the despot. His forces were becoming spread too thin to guard everything, and if they continued as they were, the overlord's empire might just collapse from being unable to sustain itself.

It was a long shot, but Sally held up hope that they would at long last bring that blob down.

She just wished that she could be heading out with the others today. Alas for her, it was her brother's turn to lead the assault, and it had been decided some time ago by her father and Geoffrey that under no circumstances was the royal line to be threatened by having both heirs out on the battlefield at the same time. Elias was a very competent military leader, and she had great faith in him, but she couldn't help but worry for him and her friends.

Walking outside of her hut, she could see them gathering around a holo map that was set up under a shelter, going over last minute details and making certain that everyone had their part down pat. The force was rather large for one of their raids, consisting of about twenty people. Sonic, Antoine, Bunnie, Geoffrey, and several others were staring intently at the working details of their mission. Towering above them was Dulcy.

She had to be one of the strangest members of their little fighting force, for Dulcy was not a Mobian, but a dragon. She was massive compared to them, being well over ten feet tall and half again as long as that. Emerald green scales covered most of her skin, but her wing membranes and her underbelly where a dark orange in color. Their large friend would function as a transport, carrying a good number of soldiers on her back to their objective and once there, would patrol outside of the factory, letting them know about enemy formations and the like, and would provide vital close air support in the event of things going awry, which was a very distinct possibility this time.

They were going to attempt to take the second Swat Bot factory offline, as Sir Charles had indicated that the maintenance repairs were nearing their end, and they certainly did not want Robotnik getting back up to his full infantry potential any time soon. However, while there was a very lucrative payoff if they managed to pull this one off, the risk was extraordinarily high, as she held little doubt that the tyrant would have all of his available forces on alert to make certain that the two remaining factories remained in one piece.

This was why they were taking along a much heavier detail than they had when they had assaulted the previous factory. The combat force this time was nothing less than forty of their best soldiers. Two groups of fifteen were loaded into a pair of transport hovercraft, which would then rapidly unload as they neared the target. Like most of their vehicles, the transports were sleek and swift, designed for rapid insertion and extraction from a combat zone. It was also armored, as it was necessary to protect the soldiers inside. However, in order for it to still stay maneuverable enough to navigate the streets of Robotropolis' at high speed, it was devoid of any weaponry save what the troopers inside might have been carrying.

As a result, the transports were always escorted by a pair of Wraiths, their light assault craft.

Early on in their little war, Sally had realized that if they were ever truly going to have a chance at keeping themselves going, they needed to attack Robotnik's supply lines, stripping him of vital equipment while keeping their own stores and munitions well stocked. In order to do that, they were going to need vehicles.

Once again, Rotor had come to the rescue. He and a few other technicians had put their heads together and the Wraith was the result. They were beautiful in a way, composed of sleek, parallel lines and several varying paint schemes depending upon what their mission called for. They were about nine feet long, and four and a half wide, to help them easily negotiate tight spaces and generally run circles around Robotnik's defensive craft. Each was manned by a two person crew. The pilot was in a forward facing cockpit, where he or she would steer the craft from behind an inch and a half of glass reinforced by ferrosteel plating. The pilot also had a pair of rotary plasma cannons for anti-infantry use.

However, their true destructive power lay on the rear of the craft, where the gunners stood, latched into a harness from which they had control of one of two weapons. The first was the LEX-275, a rather nasty semi-stationary plasma cannon that was another relic of the Great War. The cannons were about half the size of a Mobian and weighed about fifteen pounds. Usually, they were set upon a tripod and used as stationary gun emplacements. However, it was light enough that some stronger Mobians had been able to carry the thing around and fire it from the hip, though recoil and accuracy were always something of an issue. Regardless of how it was employed thought, the Lex, as it was commonly termed, was an awesome anti infantry weapon. Normally, its side loaded power packs held nearly two thousand rounds at a time, and it was capable of emptying one in less than sixty seconds if it was fired on fully automatic.

However, for obvious practical reasons, it was rarely employed in that mode. Usually, it was fired in burst of a about ten or so shots, which was enough to tear through anything short of an armored vehicle about ninety percent of the time.

The ones in use on the Wraiths had been modified to be set upon the rotaries, and could be equipped with extended power packs. These ones were almost twice as long as the standard ones (in fact, they were so large they could not be used with the standard Lexs), and carried close to five thousand rounds, while a pair of reloads were in the back within easy reach of the gunner.

The second weapon had a more specific use, and was officially designated as the AAPB-990. This weapon was half again as large as the Lex, and weighed almost two and a half times as much, mainly due to the fact that this weapon was not in fact a plasma cannon at all, but a particle beam caster. It used firing mechanisms that were similar to a bowcaster, but on a far more destructive scale. It was a semi automatic weapon whose power pack held twenty rounds, making it a poor anti-infantry device. However, anyone who had ever seen one in action would tell you that a Nine Ninety was not meant to be used on infantry.

Its purpose was to counteract the greatest potential danger that they would normally face on a mission, barring Mecha showing up to wreak havoc: an Amracks hover tank.

Sally repressed a shudder, having observed all too well what one of those heavily armored monsters could do to a squad unfortunate enough to encounter one without proper support.

"All right, are we all set?" Elias enquired, his tail, which was considerably longer that that of his sister's, swishing back and forth in anxiousness as he stared around at his comrades.

They all nodded silently, and placed their hands atop one another, their age old way of showing that they were all in this one together.

"Freedom!" they shouted, throwing their hands into the air, before moving off, some climbing aboard Dulcy, while others went of a last minute check of their weapons and equipment, and then piling up into the back of the transports.

Sally walked over to them, approaching her brother first, before drawing him into an embrace, a gesture that he returned, despite how awkward it might have been to hug someone encased in a ferrosteel combat suit. Once they broke away, she looked him dead in the eye.

"Take care of yourself, Elias," She told him.

"Don't worry, I will," He said, smiling as he did so, before turning back to the troops under his command.

Sally then looked over to Sonic, and felt her heart swell as he caught her eye, that crooked smile coming over his visage, while his eyes seemed to sparkle. She strode up to him, placing her hands upon his shoulders, and letting that strange feeling of peace wash over her once again.

"Be careful, Sonic Hedgehog," She whispered to where only he could hear. "If you do something stupid and get yourself hurt, I swear I'll finish the job."

"Don't worry, Sal." He said, that playful smile still upon his face. "I'll watch my tail, and be sure to give ole Buttnik a kick for you."

There were times when she certainly whished that the holder of her heart could be a little more serious, but his confidence in himself and his abilities put her at ease for the most part. She stepped back from him, and he jogged over to where the transports were. With a command from her brother, he shot off, while Dulcy threw herself up into the air, her powerful wings enabling her to rapidly move out of sight.

The transports and the Wraiths weren't far behind, and within thirty seconds, the whole attacking force was out of sight.

* * *

The Swat Bot called out the alarm to its comrades, unaware that they were being dealt with even as the blue and black streak screamed towards it, curling up into a ball.

His spines stiffened, Sonic became a living ball of razor blades, and at the triple digit velocity that he was moving at, easily tore right through the chestplate of the Swat Bot, shredding hydraulics, circuitry, and motivators in milliseconds. The droid guard collapsed in a heap as he exited it, hitting the ground with an unearthly clang as he quickly sight up his next target, and charged it.

To his rear, Elias spun out from behind a corner and let the enemy have it. The prince was carrying his usual weapon today, a CM-44 plasma rifle that had been fitted with an underslung M-404 grenade launcher for use against dug in or heavily armored foes. A good example being the large number of Swat Bots that were taking potshots at them from behind the safety of a metal barricade, coming unnervingly close to hitting several of the troopers under his command.

The ground squirrel growled, and cocked the loading mechanism of the launcher and angling it up slightly. He then gave the trigger a squeeze, and smiled grimly as the deadly little payload went on its way. The M-404 could fire almost any kind of grenade like projectile, but the one he had just shot had been a little surprise that Rotor had cooked up in the last month in addition to his EMP mines.

For some time, the walrus had been experimenting with various acids, attempting to find one that would work against their mechanized foes. At long last, he had succeeded in his endeavor, developing a substance he termed 'cryobean.' The acid was put into a plaststoid capsule along with a charge. After being lobbed or fired out of a launcher, the charge would detonate on contact, sending shrapnel, and more importantly, the cryobean acid, everywhere. While the acid did minimal damage to an organic target, leaving just minor burns and a patch of fur that would be missing for a few weeks, it was capable of literally eating its way through most metals.

The grenade hit the barricade, and exploded, sending the green liquid everywhere. There was a sharp hissing sound, followed by the unique stench that the weapon created when it went off. A few seconds passed, and when Elias poked his head out again, he smiled. The barricade had a huge, gaping hole in it and the bots that had been directly behind it were now little more than puddles of bubbling goop.

Over to his right, he saw Bunnie whirl out from behind an alleyway, her cybernetic left arm set to its weapon mode, a giant blaster cannon having replaced the hand. Her right hand set upon the forearm region of the weapon to steady it, she quickly fired a pair of shots at a Hover Bot. The red and grey machine turned to face the incoming fire, as it had been targeting another Freedom Fighter at the time, and had just enough time to realize that its destruction was imminent before the energy blasts connected with it.

However, not everything was going their way.

They had been right in their assumption that Robotnik was doing everything in his power to keep his remaining Swat Bot production facilities up and running, as this one was protected by what might have passed for a small droid army. As any sane guerilla group would do, the first thing they had done was to jam the communication signals of the droids that were present. This act in and of itself indicated that there was an attack, but the catch would be that Julian would have no idea what he was up against and would have no way of issuing new orders to his units.

But they still had to deal with any reinforcements that might be sent, as well as the bots already present.

One of the Wraiths shot down the main street, its forward facing cannons and the Lex on its rear filling the air with plasma fire. The gunner was angled so that she could better shoot the entrenched units as the fast attack craft strafed by, while her driver used his own weapons to mow down any droids stupid or unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of the barricade.

However, trouble reared its head a moment later.

Like some unleashed monster, an Amracks came roaring around a far corner, its four massive repulsor lifts allowing it maneuverability one would not think possible from a vehicle of its size and weight. This surprising agility was further aided by the tank's design. The repulsors were set into a semi circular platform, from which the body of the tank was built into, extending outward and to the rear.

However, its maneuverability was the least of Elias' worries at the moment. He was more concerned about the massive amount of firepower that it was about to bring down on their heads. An Amracks was crewed by three, with a pilot being responsible for driving the mammoth tank, a weapons operator that controlled of a pair of heavy turbo laser cannons for anti infantry use and two concussion missile launchers took care of the anti armor department. But what every man and woman present truly feared was the massive turret upon the top of the thing, which the gunner operated. The barrel alone was nearly ten feet long, and Elias knew all too well what it was capable of doing.

Their transports were covered in about six inches of ferrosteel plating, making them virtually impervious to infantry weapons… an Amracks' cannon would rip through that armor like it was paper.

Then, as if things were not bad enough, another one came around the corner a moment later.

"Take cover!" the prince screamed into his mike, an order that was unnecessary, as everyone was already hauling tail to get out of the line of fire.

Everyone, that is, except their Wraiths and Sonic.

The two light assault craft weaved back and forth, trying to give their opponents the most random and unpredictable target that they could, all the while their gunners threw a hail of fire down at the two behemoths. The Lex equipped Wraith couldn't do much more than scratch the paint job on its target, but the crew was trying to draw fire and buy time for the one with the Nine-Ninety to do their job.

The particle beam caster opened fire a second later, a crimson burst of energy filling the air, streaking forward almost too quickly to be seen. It smashed into the lead tank, rocking it and cracking its armor, smoke rising from the hole that had just been punched in it.

"Don't let up! Don't let up!" Elias ordered. "He's still in this fight!"

His words were proven true a moment later when a whooshing sound filled the air, and a pair of concussion missiles came racing out of their tubes. The pilot of the nearest Wraith, the one with the Lex, quickly slammed on his brakes and twisted about, resulting in the assault craft fishtailing. This caused the first pair of missiles to go wide of the mark. However, the craft had slammed up against a building and was now a sitting duck until the driver could get it properly oriented and out of the way.

It was then that the second tank fired, and the pilot slammed on the gas

It was a desperate, last ditch attempt to save their lives, and Elias knew it. The pilot and his craft lurched forward, scraping along the edge of the structure and sending sparks flying. However, he didn't get clear of the blast entirely.

The resulting shockwave from the missiles threw the one ton craft into the air. It spun over twice, twisting horizontally as well, before it came crashing down to the ground… right side up and facing towards the two tanks.

Had Swat Bots been capable of showing surprise, or if they had jaws, Elias knew then and there that every single one would have been upon the ground. He himself, and everyone else, was slack jawed at the one in a million possibility they had just witnessed, not that he was complaining.

"For the Goddess' sake, take those things out!" he heard the pilot scream over his comm., the tone of his voice rather shaky, which was completely understandable considering what had just happened.

The Armracks' missile launchers would take about five seconds to reload, time that the Wraith with the Nine Ninety onboard used to fire again. This time, the shot had a better effect, the particle beam slashing through the tanks' body and slamming into its generator. Less than a second later, the tank turned into a small sun, raining debris down all over the place.

One down, one to down.

"Oh hell!" he heard Bunnie cry out, and looking out, he immediately saw what was happening.

The second tank had noticed one of the groups hiding in the alley, and was now turning its primary cannon upon them. There was no way they'd all get clear of the blast range in time, either the fireball would consume them, or the resulting concussion would crush their bodies like ragdolls.

However, he had failed to calculate the resident super soldier into the equation.

Sonic came blazing in, nothing more than a blur as he once again curled up into his trademark attack, intent on taking the Amracks down before it could shoot. His aim was perfect, and he sliced right through the outside repulsor lift on the right side. He shot up immediately after that, the living weapon that he was tearing into the cannon.

The gun had been about to fire, but with the barrel suddenly gone, it didn't have its usual outlet. All that energy had to go somewhere, and a moment later, the top part of the tank exploded as it backfired. The rest of it was still functional, weapon wise, but Elias instantly saw what the hedgehog had been up to, and his smiled.

With one of its repulsor lifts now gone, the tank was not balanced properly, and it went down on one side, that region of its body digging into the pavement before the pilot could compensate. This caused the tank to pivot around in a manner the pilot had probably not anticipated, and it presented the rear of the tank to the guerilla forces. The rear was where the hatch was, the Achilles Heel of this particular tank model. This was proven once again a moment or two later when the Nine-Ninety fired, and the shot went straight through the back of the tank.

It joined its comrade in being a smoldering wreck shortly thereafter. However, their battle was still far from over.

A combat hovercraft chose that moment to come down from above, its twin blaster cannons filling the sky with bolts of blue plasma moving steadily towards the two Wraiths, intent on wiping them out. However, while heavily armored, the machines suffered from one critical weakness, which a certain winged lizard was about to exploit.

Her approach covered by the vast amounts of smog that covered the city, the dragon dove like a falcon towards her target, inhaling as much air as she could into her lungs.

The Swat Bots that were manning the assault craft were so intent upon wiping out the raiding party, particularly the vehicles and a certain blue speed demon, that they never noticed the creature that was about to blindside them.

As she came within targeting range, Dulcy exhaled, and a massive cone of icy quicksilver burst from her mouth. She had led her target perfectly, and the blast of frost enveloped the hovercraft. In an instant, its engines froze while its armor became covered in inches of ice. Overburdened and underpowered, it took a one way trip to the ground, hitting right in the middle of the group of barricades that had been set up in the front of the Swat Bot factory, exploding as it impacted and lighting up the entire block. It also had the added benefit of the resulting shrapnel ripping apart most of the remaining battle droids, while those who did manage to emerge relatively intact were knocked to the ground by the fireball.

"Charge em!" Elias called into his boom mike, an order that Geoffrey emulated a moment later.

"Come on, you stupid blokes, move your shebs!" the skunk shouted, loud enough to be heard even above the racket of the battlefield.

However, while their support might have been in pieces all over the street, the Swat Bots were not about to let the Freedom Fighters take the factory uncontested. As usual, the egoless machines thought nothing of themselves and kept firing upon their biological enemies, their only concern being to bring as many of them down with them as was possible.

The crack of a plasma bolt split the air, and Elias dove to one side, rolling as the round shot over his head. However, the resistance soldier that had been directly behind the prince wasn't so lucky, though, and took the round right in the face. The soldier fell to the pavement, his weapon clattering to the ground as his hands clawed and scratched at a face that was no longer there.

And that pour soul was not the only Mobian to meet the Grim Reaper at that time. Another trooper cried out as a well placed shot managed to nail her between the metal plates of her combat suit, ripping through her bowels and flash frying her guts before tearing out of her back.

Elias cursed even as he gunned another mechanized soldier down. A few as they were any loss upon a mission did not bode well for them, and to have two KIAs so soon into their operation…

The ground squirrel shook his head, knowing that there was nothing that could be done for those two now save avenging them by pulling this mission off.

A scream of rage split the air a moment later, as Sonic saw what had happened to his comrades. Fury filled his soul as he shot towards the barricade, dodging a single round of blaster fire as he closed the distance between himself and the Swat Bots in less than half a second. As before, he curled up into a ball as he neared them, and the motherboards of the guard droids had just enough time to blare out warnings about the proximity of their target before he was upon them.

The hedgehog ripped through the first one, leaving a hole in its torso as he hit the ground and bounced back up into the air, angling himself to where he shot towards one that had its back turned to him. Completely oblivious to what was about to happen to it, the Swat Bot continued to fire upon the encroaching resistance soldiers. A second later it dropped to the ground, wires from its severed head sparking and hissing.

With a minor adjustment in his angle of attack, Sonic pinged off the dura-crete barricade that the mechanized soldier had been standing behind, and like a pinball, ricocheted back towards the rest of the bots. The next one fell to the ground, cut in half at the waist. Being a droid, it was still functional, but it was now almost a literal definition of a sitting duck, and Sonic wasn't about to waste his time finishing it off when there were more dangerous targets still throwing down weapons fire at his brothers and sisters in arms.

One by one, they fell before his might. Once it was through, he came to a stop, uncurling and looking around at the destruction that he had wrought in just a few seconds.

As it was in the case with Mecha, Sonic would never admit it, but there were times when he scared himself. His ability to move so quickly, to tear through the enemy as if they were clad in nothing but wet cardboard, it frightened him. As he looked down upon the remains of the Swat Bots, he stared at the pools of hydraulic fluids and he wondered what his fate might have been had he been born a few years earlier than he was, if he'd been called up as a soldier when the Great War still raged.

It was all he could do to repress a shudder at the thought of him using his talents, his gifts, upon a living, breathing being.

He quickly shook those thoughts from his head, noticing that the Swat Bot that he had crippled was still moving, trying to crawl to a position to where it could resume firing upon its enemies. With an outward calm that belied the macabre thoughts that had just gone through his head, he walked over to it, before lifting his foot up and slamming it into the back of the machine's head.

While nowhere near as strong as Bunnie was, Sonic himself had a deceptive physical prowess for his size, and he easily crumpled the head of the thing into the pavement. The mechanized soldier twitched and spasmed for a moment or two, and then went still, its photoceptor forever dimming.

He stared back around, looking at his comrades. Some were gathering the weapons and power packs that the two dead soldiers had on them, while Elias was busy directing others into the factory. Closing his eyes, Sonic bowed his head for a moment, a silent prayer upon his lips for the souls of those two soldiers.

"Come on, pin cushion, we don't have all day!" came Geoffrey's nagging Aussie accented voice.

"Let a guy pay some respect to the dead, stinky," The hedgehog growled, tightening his right hand into a fist, trying to resist the urge to knock the skunk for a loop.

Goddess, how he hated having to work with that arrogant man. Just because St. John happened to have official military training, and was extremely good at what he did, he thought he could boss everyone around. Sonic wasn't a fool, and knew that his feelings towards the skunk were mutual. However, this time, for the sake of their mission, he swallowed his pride, and dashed inside, quickly passing the others and putting himself on point guard.

* * *

About half of the group had been left back at the barricade, their orders being to hold their point of exit and guard against any more reinforcements getting into the factory at all costs. Dulcy remained outside as well, crouched down on the roof of the facility, keeping an eye out for any other trouble that might come their way.

The rest of the group had to split up after a few minutes so that they could place the charges faster. However, this strategy was far riskier than normal, as it obviously meant fewer soldiers present in each group should they stumble across a Swat Bot patrol.

Adding to that danger was the fact that it had been agreed that this time, their demo charges would be running off of timers. Sally had been worried about the use of such devices, pointing out everything that could go wrong with them, but Elias had been adamant, and Geoffrey had backed him up on this one. Everyone knew that Robotnik would be desperate to hang onto these remaining production facilities, as reducing him to one would be a truly devastating blow against him. As such, Elias wanted a bit of insurance that in the event of the strike force getting wiped out, that the would at least be able to take the facility down with them.

They had about thirteen minutes left, and everyone was double timing it to get the charges to their locations and get out of this place before the fireworks began.

The prince had only one other soldier with him at the moment, Sonic. Geoffrey had voiced a complaint about that 'fool' going off with the primary heir to the throne by himself, but the prince had insisted, stating that St. John's expertise would be needed with the another one of the groups if they ran into trouble. If the skunk had a chink in his physiological armor, it was close his ego, and he had gone off to assist them, with Sonic being surprised that his head hadn't smashed its way out of its helmet, considering how it seemed to be swelling when he left.

That left the prince and the hedgehog to finish up this area of the factory, a task that they were well on their way to completing. However, they were certainly encountering resistance, such as a group of twelve Swat Bots that had them pinned down behind some steel pipes at the moment.

The machines were performing their standard tactic in such a situation, keeping about half of their forces back behind cover of their own, filling the air with enough suppression fire to force the enemy to keep their heads down, while the rest of the Swat Bots moved in and prepared to capture them.

The hallway that they were in was fairly narrow and about two hundred feet long, which was a double edged sword for both parties involved. On the one hand, it prevented the machines from flanking Sonic and Elias, something that certainly wouldn't have been good. On the other hand, the narrow confines and lack of cover beyond this point would make it difficult for Sonic to use his trademark speed to shred them, as he wouldn't have a lot of room to dodge. It was times like this that really made the blue speed demon seriously consider about dropping by the armory and picking up a plasma pistol of some sort, despite the fact that his unique style of melee fighting would have made it difficult to keep the weapon intact.

As it was, his companion stuck his plasma rifle over the pipes, and holding it sideways, fired it on full auto, hoping that he could take out a few of their mechanized foes, or at the very least, stall for time. A clang echoed throughout the area a moment later, testifying that the prince had managed to turn at least one into scrap.

His weapon emptied its power pack a few seconds later, and both he and Sonic frowned as he went to reload, realizing that with all the fighting that they had done, that the prince was down to three magazines left for his rifle, and his last of his thermal detonators had been used to knock out another heavily dug in group of Swat Bots.

Sonic looked up at the prince, and he nodded, before reaching back into his backpack, drawing forth a golden power ring. Elias frowned and went to tell him to wait, but the hedgehog was off in the blink of an eye as he absorbed the power of the device, leaping up from behind his position and diving towards the right end of the hallway as fast as he could manage. Several shots came in, and the resistance soldier felt the unnerving tingling sensation as his Nagai body armor did exactly what it was supposed to do. However, it could only take so much abuse, and Sonic was smart enough to realize that if he didn't trash these guys quickly, that his future wasn't going to be a very bright one.

Drawing upon the power he had absorbed, he accelerated up to his full running speed, and curled up one again. He was still angled towards the wall, his idea being to once more use himself like a Mobian pinball in order to maximize his chances of taking down his enemies while making his movements as erratic and random as possible. Such a course of action would have the Swat Bots guessing about where he was going to bounce next, some of which would doubtless guess wrong.

His plan worked for the most part, as he quickly pinged and ricocheted back and forth in the narrow corridor, the five remaining members of the advancing group quickly being reduced to mangled piles of metal and circuitry before him.

He uncurled after that, snapping into action as the remaining six took aim and fired at him, crimson bolts filling the air and making it reek of ozone. The shots were unnervingly accurate, and Sonic wondered if the big round guy had upgraded the combat and targeting protocols within these units, as their aim seemed a tad bit above the average. Still, he couldn't let that stop him, and he dashed over to the left side of the hallway, where he promptly began to wall run towards his foes.

He continued to move up the wall as he drew closer, barely managing to doge the fire that came at him as he ran the distance. He then further defied the laws of physics, moving up to where he was actually running upon the ceiling, smiling grimly as he noticed the Swat Bots line up with him. He jumped, propelling himself towards the floor as one final volley came at him. By now, he was within twenty feet of where the machines were trying to hold their ground, and he knew he could easily reach them with a single bounce from this distance. Once again, he balled up, and they were swiftly dealt with.

As he stood up after unleashing his destructive abilities upon the machines, he paused to crack his neck and give himself a once over. At the same time, Elias jumped up from behind his position, and quickly double timed it up to where the hedgehog was.

"Your suit's seen better days," The prince remarked with a frown, pointing to the discolored areas where the hedgehog had taken blaster fire.

"Yeah, but it's nothing that can't be fixed," Sonic replied with a nonchalant shrug, before looking down at his watch. "We gotta move, there's not much time left before this place gets blown into orbit."

Elias nodded silently, and both of them rushed off to place the final charge.

They reached the place about a minute later, and Sonic kept a lookout while the prince rigged up the charge, taking careful note of the ever shrinking timer upon the demo pack. This one was to be placed upon a power conduit that was responsible for keeping this entire branch of the facility up and running, and it was imperative above all of their other targets that this one be taken out.

As he was doing that, something happened then that would forever alter the course of the war…

A trio of Swat Bots came clanking into the room, instantly assessing the situation and leveling their integrated wrist blasters. Sonic called a warning to Elias, who instinctively rolled out of the way as the shots came flying at it.

Murphy's Law struck again then, as one shot hit a part of the power conduit. A piece of shrapnel went flying, where it subsequently hit the side of the charge. At the speed at which it was moving, the piece of metal easily tore into the demo charge, and as luck would have it, sliced a couple of wires in half. One of these was a failsafe wire that connected to a kamikaze styled manual detonation button, something for a Mobian to press when they had no hope of escape, as nobody fancied the idea of being a prisoner. If that circuit ever took damage, a backup failsafe would also activate, and a moment later, the timer automatically hit zero, a slight warbling noise warning anyone nearby the hit the deck.

Both of the guerilla fighters saw it happen, and both had enough time for their minds to think something along the lines of 'oh drek' while they leapt away from the pack and hit the floor, hoping that they would survive what came next. They filled their lungs with as much oxygen as they could, knowing that in a couple of seconds, to breathe would mean death.

The air became heavy, and a high pitched whine split the air a moment before it happened.

The room was lit with a white light, and a roar filled the area, so loud as to make one think that Armageddon was upon them. The air became impossibly hot, and their bones vibrated as the shockwave from the demo pack passed over them.

Then it passed, and the room was eerily quiet save for the sparking of the now destroyed power conduit.

Then there was a groan, followed swiftly by a second, as both Freedom Fighters had apparently managed to survive the blast.

Sonic picked his head up, shaking it back and forth to clear away the stars that were flying around it. A quick look revealed that he was still okay, something that he thanked the Goddess for. He glanced over to the Swat Bots, smiling grimly as he saw that the ensuring shrapnel from the blast had filleted them.

Elias moaned again, and the blue hedgehog looked over to him, his eyes going wide as he realized that it sounded a little pained. It was then that he noticed where the prince was, and realized that because he hadn't been able to get as far away, the shockwave had apparently picked the ground squirrel up and tossed him halfway across the room before he slammed into the ground, something that couldn't have been good for him.

However, his concern over bruises and possibly cracked bones diminished significantly half a second later, as an ominous creaking sound came from the roof. Sonic looked up, and realized that the blast had damaged some structure supports for the area, and the sky was about to fall.

There was a metallic shrieking noise, and a chunk broke loose right over Elias' head. The prince was still dazed from what had happened, and being occupied with trying to get back up on his feet, had no idea what was about to happen to him.

Elias thought he heard a faint shout, and he turned to face the direction in which it had come from, only to see a blue and black blur come rocketing towards him. The next thing that he knew, he was sailing through the air once again, the wind being knocked from him as Sonic slammed into his gut. A thunderous crash nearly deafened him a millisecond later, and he found himself once more shaking his head to try and get himself seeing straight again.

As a finally came back to his senses, and terrible sight met his eyes.

Sonic lay half buried under the debris that had nearly crushed him.

"Sonic!" Elias screamed, dashing over to the other resistance soldier and frantically seeing if his was still alive, barely registering the fact that his comm. system had been broken when the shockwave had hurled him.

"Ouch," the blue hedgehog muttered, and the prince could see that he was trying to keep his expression stoic and neutral, despite the pain that he was in.

Elias quickly tried to assess the situation and figure a way to get the hedgehog out of this mess. Sonic was pinned beneath several hundred pounds of debris from the collapse, which had fallen into a roughly crescent like shape, meaning that while his head, chest and left arm were fine and free to move, everything below his waist and his right arm had been crushed. As a matter of fact, upon a slightly closer inspection, Elias was able to note that one of the girders involved was sticking straight up, indicating that it had smashed straight through the floor, and it was perfectly in line with where the Freedom Fighter's left leg should have been.

Frantically, the prince fell to his knees and began to shift the debris around, trying to get enough of it moved to where he could free his comrade in arms. However, it was an exercise in futility, as he was nowhere near strong enough to be able to lift this stuff.

"Give it up, Eli," Sonic muttered, hissing slightly as the pain threatened to overwhelm his sense of reality. "You can't move this. Forget about me and go!"

"I'm not leaving you here!" Elias shot back, continuing to try and move some of the debris, but having no luck.

Sonic grabbed his hand suddenly with his free arm, before twisting his wrist to where the ground squirrel could see his watch, its digital timer growing smaller by the second.

"The clock's ticking, Elias," he snarled, before pushing the prince away, "you stay here much longer and you're going up in flames with this place, too." Elias opened his mouth to say something, but Sonic cut him off. "You can't do a thing about this, now leave me and get going, you don't have much time!"

The prince looked as if he was about to continue to argue, but he knew, deep down, that there was nothing that he could do, and even if, by some miracle, he managed to free the hedgehog, the odds were that he would bleed out before they could get him back to Knothole for proper medical attention.

Agony welling up in his soul he stared down at Sonic, catching the Freedom Fighter's gaze for what he knew would be the final time.

"Tell Sally that I love her," Sonic said, before he lowered his head to the floor, trying to block the agony of his wounds out.

"I will," Elias responded, his voice threatening to crack at any moment.

Then the ground squirrel turned, and fled back the way that he had came, his boot falls echoing throughout the corridor. Sonic merely closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and force his mind off of something other than the screaming pain that was coursing through every fiber of his being.

He didn't fear death, having seen it happen around him for so long that he had long ago come to terms with the fact that there was a very good possibility that he was going to wind up KIA one day. As a matter of fact, he noticed that the pain was starting to fade a bit, or rather, at least what was left of his limbs weren't burning like they'd been placed in hellfire anymore. Deep down, he realized why, his body was going into shock, trying to shut down anything non vital in a desperate effort to save itself, not that it would make much of a difference in the end.

He forced himself to think about a less morbid topic than his impending doom, focusing instead upon three individuals. He thought briefly about his uncle, wondering what the roboticized hedgehog might have been doing at this very moment to aid their cause, and regretting the fact that he would not be there on that glorious day when his uncle was finally freed of his curse. He would not be there to watch as Chuck's metallic body returned to normal.

He thought of Tails, the little brother that he would leave behind. He hoped and prayed with all of his soul that the fox cub wouldn't take this too hard. He thought of all the things he would miss in the little guy's life, watching him grow up and probably become a mechanic or an inventor of some sort, as he had a really sharp mind for that stuff. However, he took some solace in the knowledge that Sally would take care of him in the absence of the brother he'd practically worshiped.

Sally, Goddess above how he hated leaving her like this, after all that they had been through, all that they had shared. Despite himself, he felt a tear leak out of his right eye. He felt like he was abandoning her, and that feeling tore at him inside. He hoped she understood, but he knew that she was tough, that she would overcome this somehow. She would rise from this, stronger than before, and she would lead their people onward to the victory that they had struggled for for so long.

He opened his eyes once more, and looked down to his watch, just about the only thing that hadn't been damaged, ironically enough. Less than a minute to go, less than sixty seconds until his life was over.

* * *

Elias ran like there was no tomorrow, his mind and soul screaming about having to leave Sonic behind, but knowing that there had been no alternative.

About two minutes passed while he raced back through the factory, finally coming across the rallying point. Everyone looked over at him as he reached the junction, relived to see that their commander was unharmed.

"Good to see you in one piece, Sir," Geoffrey said with a salute. "I was beginning to think that Sonic had botched the job."

"Where is Sonic?" Antoine piped up, looking to see if the other guerilla soldier was behind Elias.

Others too, took not of the blue furred hedgehog's absence, and everyone looked to Elias. The prince just shook his head, a tortured frown upon his visage. The looks of confusion upon their faces turned into those of disbelief, but there would be time to mourn Sonic's loss later.

"Go!" Elias shouted, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

They hesitated for a second, but after that, everyone made a dash for the exit.

They ran swiftly, knowing what further delay might mean, and quickly made their way back to their fallback point, and from there, outside.

"Glad to see you're all back," Bunnie grumbled as she fired off a few rounds at a patrol that was trying to force its way past them.

With their combined firepower, they quickly ripped their mechanized opponents to shreds. This was swiftly followed by a mad dash for the transports, the troopers scrambling up the rear hatches and piling inside.

It was then that Bunnie, looking around to make sure no one was getting left behind, noticed that someone was indeed missing.

"Where's Sonic?" She asked, looking over to Elias.

As before, the prince could not find the proper words, to say, and opted to lower his head towards the ground, less the others see the tears that were threatening to fall. Absentmindedly, he looked down at his watch, wondering how much time their friend and comrade had left before his life was snuffed out.

One minute left before the bombs detonated.

* * *

The hedgehog saw the seconds tic away, and he braced himself for what he suspected was going to be a very painful demise.

Ten seconds left.

He muttered a quiet prayer for all those he was leaving behind.

Five seconds.

He thought back to his friends, holding the image of them within his mind, drawing strength from that.

The timer hit zero.

A roar filled the air, and the whole factory rattled and began to come apart as the charges detonated. The roof started to crumble again, and another part of it came down, this one landing on his free arm, smashing it into the ground and sending fresh waves of agony through him as it crushed his bones into powder.

Then came the fireball, rushing down the corridor towards him. He lowered his head out of instinct, turning it sideways with the right side towards the floor. A moment later, the explosion washed over him, and only the years of training that he'd had prevented him from opening his mouth to scream, knowing that to do so would have caused the heat to enter his lungs, and scorch them.

Nonetheless, the pain of his flesh melting off overwhelmed him, and mercifully, his world went dark.

* * *

Three hours had passed since the destruction of the second Swat Bot factory, and Robotnik had just finished his tirade. His breathing still laced with fury, spittle flying whenever he exhaled, he forcefully sat himself back down in his command chair. Snively looked up from where he was hiding a moment later, daring to hope that it might be safe for him to come out.

"How do they do it?" the overlord muttered to himself, rubbing his temple with his cybernetic arm. "How, Snivley?"

"With all due respect, Sir," the little man responded, knowing that he had to tread carefully here if he wanted to be able to walk away from this encounter with Julian's rage, "our Swat Bots are designed for traditional infantry roles, and are just not suited for the job of defense against the Freedom Fighter's hit and run tactics."

The Overlander fell silent after that, hoping that his uncle would see the logic behind his statement rather than lashing out blindly like he usually did.

"Hmm… You're right, Snivley." Julian responded with a sigh, and tapping his finger against his chin. "Even Mecha seems to lack the knowledge of how to deal with them effectively. What we need, is something that can beat them at their own game."

That last statement came out as a frustrated growl, but no sooner had it left the overlord's mouth, than he suddenly went silent, a faint, strange light coming into his eyes.

"Sir?" Snively inquired, not sure what to make of the sudden change in Robotnik.

The response he got was for his uncle to slap himself upside the head with his flesh and blood hand.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, hurriedly typing in codes from his command chair. "How could I have forgotten about that little project?"

Snivley cocked an eyebrow, once more puzzled by what his uncle was rambling on about. Still, he knew better than to ask a question about what was going on, and went back to surveying damage reports from the attack.

However, it was about five minutes later when a priority message was sent through to one of the computer stations, and he quickly went over to read it. He gazed at it with half hearted interest initially, but once he got about two or three sentences into the message, his gray eyes bulged outward, and he had to physically remind himself to continue to breathe. This information was something he did dare to disturb his uncle with, and he quickly rushed over and presented the report.

For a full minute, Robotnik merely stared at it, his eyes wide with complete and total disbelief. After that, though, a wicked grin spread upon the overlord's face as he finished reading it.

"The Goddess indeed favors me today," he said with a wicked chuckle. "This timing is absolutely perfect!"

The overlord then threw himself back into his work, hurriedly running through everything he needed to set his next little scheme into motion.

* * *

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* * *

Okay, those of you who have read my stories in the Jak and Daxter section know my policy on this, but for those of you who don't let me make one thing clear right here, right now: I DO NOT KILL CANON CHARACTERS! (exception made for bad guys) So, despite what you may think, and what logic dictates more than likely happened, our little blue friend is still alive, and he will be back before the end of the story! I just want you to understand that, lest someone accuse me of killing Sonic, which is something I would never do.

With that in mind, I welcome any and all comments, positive and negative, constructive criticism, ideas and advice, and even flames. Also, if anyone noticed a glaring spelling or grammatical error, please do not hesitate to let me know so that I can correct the blasted thing (grumbles about out of date word processor).

Also, if anyone knows of anywhere I could go to learn how to throw accents into the dialogue (something I utterly stink at, for those of you who haven't noticed) I would be very, very grateful. (bows)

Thank you once again, and I hope you have a great day.


	4. Sorrows

Hello to you all, and I hope that you are having a wonderful day. As for myself, I'm in a bit of a rush here, many things to do today, so I'll make this quick.

Once again, I must stress that Sonic is alive, and he will be back, despite all odds. However, it won't be for a while. You can probably guess the nature of this chapter by the title, and I hope I haven't overdone it on the melodrama.

I also want to thank everyone who reviewed, and if you leave an anonymous review, please leave an e-mail address or something that I can use to respond to you with seeing as how I am not allowed to do so here (glares at administration). For those of you who read but did not review, I hope that this story has proven to be worth your time and effort and if you ever wish to comment, I would welcome it with open arms.

Lawyers: I own nothing, so stop calling my house dagnabbit!

That said, here is chapter four.

* * *

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* * *

Sorrows

The little fox kit stared at the shimmering waters of the Ring Pool in utter silence, absently noting the moving stars that were reflected by it. His eyes were dry, but that was simply because he had run out of tears to shed. He closed them once again, and he choked up, his breath coming in short hics and sobs as he fell to his knees.

Why? Was the main thing going through the mind of young Tails. Why had it happened to Sonic, why did his brother have to die?

Three days had passed since Elias and the others had returned. He'd been out kicking his soccer ball around when they'd returned, and he'd immediately rushed over to where the group had been searching for his adoptive sibling. However, he hadn't been able to see him. Thinking perhaps that Sonic was bringing up the rear, or that he had had another mission or something, he'd gone up to the prince, and attempted to figure out where his big brother had gone off to.

However, when he'd asked, Elias had merely looked down at the ground, and the whole group had become deathly silent. Tails had immediately guessed that something was wrong, and endless possibilities raced through his young mind. The truth had never entered his head, though, not until Bunnie had explained to him what had happened.

How could it be? How could Sonic, his hero, his friend, his brother, be dead? The hedgehog had been invincible as far as the little kit had been concerned, how then could the Grim Reaper come and claim him? He didn't want to believe it, wanted to deny it with all his heart and soul, wanted to think that somewhere, somehow, his hero had once more managed to cheat the odds, that he'd just gotten tangled up in something and that he'd be back soon enough.

But reality didn't give a damn about what you believed.

The little kit wasn't alone in his world of mourning either, for as he tried once again the summon up the tears to weep, he felt a pair of arms grasp him and begin to slowly rock him back and forth. Opening his eyes, he looked up, and saw Sally, her own eyes glistening, holding him. Tails placed his head against her chest, and she patted him gently on the back, trying to comfort him as much as she could. She rubbed his head and tried to whisper soothing things to him, knowing how much Sonic's loss must have torn at him.

She had to remain strong, to keep going despite the huge blow that had been dealt to her, to Tails, and to their resistance movement as a whole. Such was the burden and curse of leadership, that she would not be allowed to show the weakness of sorrow. She could only mourn the loss of the Mobian who had been her friend and her love in private, lest the rest of the soldiers see her despair and lose heart.

She looked down at the boy that she held in her arms, the child that she had raised, and she silently damned Robotnik to all the tortures of the Nine Hells. Bad enough for the child that he had lost his real family, and now to lose the only sibling that he had truly ever known… it was something that no child should have had to go through.

Though her heart and soul were in agony that she had never before known, the princess vowed once again that she would be strong, and that she would now fight harder than ever for the cause that Sonic had sacrificed himself for. Her eyes grew hard and a cold fire sprang up within them as she thought about the man she had loved, and she made another silent vow. She swore, on her life and her honor, that Julian Ivo Robotnik would be brought to justice, no matter the cost. She would see him cast down, and she would see him put to death for his crimes.

Slowly, she became aware of the fact that Tails had ceased his crying, and looking down at him once again, she saw that he had fallen asleep, falling into the realm of dreams, where he was at last safe from the waking world and all its troubles. Slowly rising, Sally carried the kit towards his hut, noticing that even while asleep, that Tails' face was one of heart wracked sorrow.

At that moment in time, the ground squirrel would have given anything to have Sonic back safe with them, for Tails' sake as much as her own. Alas, she knew that her hopes were in vain, that the hedgehog was really gone, and that she would not see him again on this mortal plane. She would never hear him boast, never hear one of his jokes, never watch him play with his little brother, and she would never feel him wrap his arms around her, holding her close and letting her hear the beat of his heart in his chest.

Another tear managed to squeeze itself out of her left eye and make its way down her cheek, and it was all she could to do keep control of herself, to remind herself that others might have been watching, and that she had to remain strong and stoic in the face of this loss.

Reaching Tails' hut, she carefully reached down and opened the door, mindful of the kit in her arms. She then slipped inside and gently laid the boy down on his bed, tucking him in and giving him a kiss upon his forehead, before heading back out.

As she closed the door behind her, the princess stared up at the parts of the sky that were visible through the thick canopy of the Great Forest, looking at the twinkling stars and wondering why the Goddess had chosen to be so cruel as to take Sonic away from her, away from Tails, away from them all.

Slowly, weighed down by the burden that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment, Sally headed towards the cemetery on the far end of the village.

The empty grave of Sonic Maurice Hedgehog was easy enough to spot, for it was one of the fresher ones, not yet settled and sunken by time, and it was covered in offerings of flowers and the like. The headstone itself was no fancier than the others that were there, a simple cross with his name and age written upon it. Despite all of his bravado and at times nerve grating arrogance and his 'hero' status, they had truly believed that Sonic would not have wanted anything fancier than the others that had fallen beside him, those who had also died for the noble cause of freedom.

She bowed her head as she approached, wishing with all of her heart that she could deny what had happened. Slowly, reverently, she knelt down, and traced her hand along the name carved into the headstone. Certain that she was alone, she at last allowed the feelings that she had kept pent up for so long to come out, and she broke down and wept, the tears coming forth in a never ceasing river as she laid her soul bare.

For how long she cried, she could not later recall, all that she knew was that after a time, she became aware of the fact that two people were behind her. Looking up, she saw the remnants of her family. King Maximilian was as stoic as ever, but Elias was wracked with grief, and she could only imagine how guilty her brother must have felt.

"A tragic loss," her father said quietly, shaking his head.

"Do you mourn the loss of one of my friends," Sally said, acid in her voice, "or the fact that we've lost our best soldier?"

"The latter," the king replied without hesitation. "I will not hide the fact that I did not like Sonic, for reasons that I have stated time and again and shall not repeat now. As it is, I think our war against Julian is nearing its end, despite Sonic's death." He stated, attempting to change the subject, and he got a look from his daughter, one that was skeptical, so he opted to explain. "With the second factory now defunct, Julian's forces will be spread so thin that it should be only a mater of time before we can launch a full scale assault and take back our home."

He paused for a moment, before sighing and looking down at the empty grave.

"Perhaps it is for the best that he died now," the king remarked offhandedly, shrugging his shoulders while he was at it, "I don't think he would have been able to adjust to civilian life."

Sally said nothing, but instead rose and walked over to her father, the cold fires dancing once more in her eyes. She looked up at the monarch, the icy glare she gave him daring him to continue.

Not about to be intimidated by his somewhat upstart daughter, King Max continued.

"He was a soldier, Bean, and that was all he ever could be, all he was meant to be!" the monarch growled, clenching his right hand up into a fist.

"What would you know?" the princess snarled back, all the pain in her soul screaming once again, demanding an outlet. "You never took the time to get to know him, father, all you saw was a tool, you saw him as a means by which to depose Robotnik and win this war!"

"Like all of these soldiers here, Sonic was an asset, an expendable asset!" her father retaliated, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at his daughter.

"That 'asset' was my friend and someone that I loved, father!" Sally said, her voice cold enough to turn fire into ice, and Elias, watching helplessly from the background, knew it was taking ever bit of willpower that his sister possessed not to deck their father.

"Love? Sally, you are not…" Max began, but she cut him off.

"I know my heart, father, and I am old enough to make my own decisions." she stopped, her voice cracking. "I wish you could see that. I wish you could have seen Sonic for what he truly was, the noble person that he was, someone who died to save your son, for the Goddess' sake!"

With that, she stormed off, knowing that she needed to leave before she did something that she regretted. Tears coming from her eyes, she fled the cemetery, seeking the sanctuary, however illusionary, that her hut offered to her.

Elias merely shook his head, watching as his father left shortly after. Now alone, he knelt down before the tombstone, and silently begged forgiveness for his own carelessness. He blamed himself for the hedgehog's death, thinking that if only he'd listened to his sister, and used charges that were remote detonated rather than timed, that if he'd been a little more aware of his surroundings, that this would not have happened.

"It should have been me…" he muttered, shaking his head, his ears drooping.

Why did Sonic have to be such a noble idiot and get himself killed for his sake, the prince wondered. In his own mind, Elias saw himself as something far less important than the dead hero. True, he was a leader, someone that the others looked to in times of need and when things got chaotic on the battlefield, as they often did. However, his sister had proven many times that she could do all of that just as well as he could, probably even better, as she had more experience.

Right then, Elias would have given anything to turn back the clock, to do the raid over again, knowing what changes he would have made, and the things that he would have done differently. However, he knew that such a thing was impossible, and to wish such a thing was foolish. The lesson that he had learned was a bitter one indeed, and he vowed then and there that he would learn from it.

No one would ever die from one of his screw ups again.

* * *

It was some time later when the next visitor came along.

Geoffrey St. John looked down upon the headstone with a mixture of disappointment and utter contempt. He wasn't surprised in the least that the soldier that he considered to be his rival in more ways than one was now gone. Always rushing off to do the heroic thing, throwing himself into danger recklessly, it was just a matter of time before he bought the farm.

"Well, mate," he remarked to himself, "guess the better man won in the end." He then leaned down close to the grave, and gave a roguish wink. "Don't worry about your girl, either, she'll be in good hands."

He chuckled for a moment or two, smirking to himself, when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. Confused for a moment, the skunk began to stand and turn. However, he only got about halfway before he felt and iron hard grip around his throat, and was forcibly spun the rest of the way to face his attacker. He let out a choked gasp of surprise when he saw who it was, as such an aggressive move was literally the last thing he would have expected from this individual.

He found himself staring at none other than Antoine. The coyote had a snarl upon his muzzle, and his eyes… Goddess above his eyes had a rage in them that the colonel had never before seen. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn the look to be one of murderous rage. For a brief second, Geoffrey wondered if it might have been a poker face of some sort, but when the grip around his throat tightened just slightly, he immediately shook such notions from his head.

It was then that Antoine spoke, his voice in a low, measured tone, his mannerisms one of a person trying to keep himself in control.

"You should to be showing more respect when you address him," the royal guard growled, narrowing his already burning glare even further, which actually caused St. John to fidget for a moment or two, before the skunk regain his composure.

"When I address an empty grave?" he quipped, cocking an eyebrow.

Antoine, in response, slammed the man against a nearby tree, and Geoffrey felt his skull crack against the bark, causing pain to rush through his head and lights to dance in front of his eyes. If possible, the rage in the guard's eyes seemed to have doubled.

"You are knowing what I am meaning!" he hissed, his canine's bared, actually making him look menacing. "Sonic and I might not have been… how do you say it… chums? But he was brave, and I will not have you slander his honor while he is not here to defend himself! Am I making myself clear?"

St. John found that he could nod mutely.

"And another thing," the coyote snarled, "keep yourself away from the princess, she will not be needing your…" he paused, as if searching for the proper term, "intrusions, right now."

"Hey!" the skunk began, but was unable to finish as the royal guard dropped him to the ground.

"Mark my words, colonel," Antoine said, looking down upon him as he sat in the dirt of the cemetery, "and mark them well. If you dishonor Sonic again, through words or acting, you and I will duel, and it will be a fight that one of us will not walk away from!"

At any time before this moment, Geoffrey, along with a good number of others, would have likely scoffed at the notion of Antoine engaging anyone in an honor duel, let alone one to the death. But now, looking at this new side, so drastically different from the nervous and often times cowardly coyote, he knew that scoffing would likely result in a duel happening right then and there, and for all his faults, Antoine knew how to use that saber on his waist…

The murderous eyes fell upon him again, and the colonel felt his courage desert him. He rose after that, going to leave but determined to salvage what he could of his pride and dignity, rather than flee with his tail between his legs.

"Be grateful I have more important things to worry about," Geoffrey stated, before walking off.

However, deep down, the skunk couldn't get the image of the rage filled coyote out of his mind, and knew he would sooner throw himself at a legion of Swat Bots before fighting Antoine while he was like that.

* * *

Once he was certain that the colonel had left for good, Antoine D'Coolette turned and face Sonic's headstone.

Truth be known, he had no idea how he should feel regarding the hedgehog's demise. He meant what he had said to Geoffrey about him and Sonic not exactly being on the best of terms. He had always thought of the other soldier as reckless and a hopeless show off, and Sonic had constantly made fun of him. Indeed, there were times when he believed that the hedgehog would go out of his way to make his life miserable. However, there had been a few, rare instances when circumstances had forced them to come together, and it was times like that when they had had a mutual respect for one another.

He'd always kept it to himself, but there were times when his thoughts had been rather like Tails', that the hedgehog had been immune to Death's touch, that nothing could harm him or take him out. The lesson that he had learned was a harsh one, and it reminded him all too well of his own mortality.

But it had also put a new light upon things.

As he stared down at the empty grave, looking at all the farewells and the like that adorned it, he realized now that everyone died, it was inevitable.

What then, would the people say when he passed on? What trophies or triumphs or tales would he leave his friends with if he should die? Nothing… save for the stories of how many times he had nearly botched a mission or gotten them all killed with his cowardice and shortcomings.

He thought bitterly what his father, who had given his life to try and stop Julian during the opening hours of the coup, would think of him now. That thought brought a burning shame to him, and he kneeled down in front of the grave, his eyes upon the soft earth. Silently, lest his tendency to butcher English cause him to slip up, he wished his comrade in arms peace in death, and then he drew his saber.

He hesitated for just a moment, bracing himself for the pain, and then he drew the weapon across the palm of his left hand, leaving a gash that spilled his blood upon the ground. The sight of the red liquid had always made him a bit nauseous, and even now, he felt the urge to wretch rising within him, but he shook it off, determined that it was time to change.

Silently, he vowed that he would honor Sonic's memory by becoming the royal guard he always should have been.

* * *

Rotor, Dulcy, and Bunnie all sat at the steps of the walrus' workshop, their heads bowed and silently grieving.

None of them were strangers to death and loss. After all, they could still very vividly remember the coup, the day in which Robotnik had stolen their lives away, taken everything they had ever known. And they were also soldiers, they had fought for years, undertaking hundreds of missions that always held the possibility that someone wasn't coming back from. They had seen people die, people they had known, if only distantly. But this kind of loss was different, it had been someone they knew well, someone who was like a brother to them all.

Rotor and Bunnie were both orphans, but those of them who had had families knew that they had been roboticized, and were now the Goddess only knew where, slaving away for the despicable overlord. But even then, they held on to the hope that they would one day free them, that everything would be back to normal. But one could not turn back the clock, and undo death. The only consolation that they had was that their friend and comrade was probably looking down on them right now from a better place.

Dulcy, the youngest amongst them, suddenly burst out into a fresh wave of crying. Rotor reached up and scratched the dragon behind her horns, hoping to make her feel better, but knowing that there was really nothing he could do.

He didn't often go out on missions, being more useful to the resistance as a mechanic and technician, but there had been times when a job would call for his expertise, and he'd found himself on the front lines right beside the blue speed demon. He could think of no less than a dozen times when he'd watched his friend turn the tide of a mission with his seemingly heaven sent abilities. While there may have been times when Sonic had let that hero status go to his head, Rotor knew that there were precious few people that he would rather have covering his six.

And now he was gone.

For once, all his technical knowledge was useless, his engineering skills of absolutely no consequence.

That was to say nothing of the guilt that plagued the poor walrus. He had been the one to have designed those charges, it had been his idea to put that failsafe in them. He could have never imagined that it would result in the death of someone he had grown up with. How he cursed himself for his actions.

With Bunnie it was much the same. The cybernetic Mobian thought that if only she had been there, she might have been able to pull the debris off of him and save him.

Sonic and Antoine had been the ones who had saved her from becoming one of Robotnik's mindless worker bots. They might have arrived too late to save her entirely, but as much as she detested and loathed her mechanized body parts, she found her predicament infinitely better than what her fate might have been otherwise.

Now one of her saviors was dead.

Like in Rotors case, one might rationalize that his wounds were too great for the hedgehog to have survived even if someone had pulled him free, or that no one could have expected the literally one in a million chance of shrapnel setting the demo charge off. But then, guilt was not exactly a rational emotion.

She felt her vision start to blur again, and she welcomed the tears.

She was aware of a hand upon her back, and looking up, she saw Antoine sitting down beside her. She threw her arms around the coyote, sobbing into his chest, wishing the pain would just go away.

The four of them huddled together, drawing strength from each other, together in their mourning for a family that had been shattered.

* * *

Far away in Robotropolis, in a hidden facility buried under a garbage pile, Uncle Chuck stared at a computer screen. Staring at, but not seeing what was in front of his eyes.

How long had it been since he'd received the news? Hours, days, weeks perhaps? He didn't know, and it honestly didn't matter to him.

Sonic, his nephew, his boy, was gone.

Deep down, he'd always known it was a possibility, but it was just one of those things that you never really thought was going to happen. Now he was left to wonder how things would change. How his nephew would not be present on the day of their victory, how he would not be there to join in their celebration as they tore down this twisted and corrupted city to be replaced with a restored Mobotropolis. The mechanized hedgehog thought of all of the things that they would never be able to do together, the things he would never see… and the things he would never tell the boy.

Ever since he had been freed of Julian's control, the old scientist had been working up the courage to try and tell his nephew the truth of his nature, of what he had been meant to be. But always, cowardice and fear had held him back. He couldn't stand the thought of his nephew turning upon him, or rejecting him, so he'd kept quite. Now, it seemed, it would be something that would forever haunt him.

He placed his head within his hands, and sobs began to wrack his metallic body. No tears came forth though, for a robot could not cry. Once again, it seemed as though fate sought to punish him for his past decisions and crimes, to make him suffer for his transgressions by removing even his ability to mourn properly.

* * *

They were all united in their grief and their pain, the hole they felt within their souls. But while they might have been suffering in agony over the fate of their friend, evil did not rest.

Julian looked down at the report that had been given to him. His latest little project was just finishing up with its introductory stages, but if all went well, it would be ready in a few weeks. Then, then those miserable little Freedom Fighters would have to watch out, for they would suddenly find that he had something that could play by their rules.

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Yes, yes I know, I'm and evil little creature, leaving you all of these cliffhangers. Rest assured, though, that in the next chapter, you will finally get to see what bolts for brains has been working on… and believe me, its not going to be a pretty sight when it goes to work…

That said, any comments, be they advice, constructive criticism, flames over my inability to write, or simply weapon ideas or the like, please let me know what you think.

Also, I have been giving out little tidbits of humor at my other stories from a couple of online lists, and I felt readers of this story should be treated to something similar. A friend of mine down here recently got me a book on how to make yourself a supremely evil villain and hang on to that status, so I'll leave you with a couple of excerpts from various parts of it. I'll start with a couple of Henchmen types.

Henchmen

Thugs- The classic thug has been a favored henchmen for centuries. Be they mobsters with itchy trigger fingers or just the usual gang of unwashed ruffians, nothing inspires fear quite like the hired thug. Slow on the uptake, their dull wit generally sees them through such menial tasks as 'Get the money' or 'Kill them.' A nostalgic choice, thugs evoke memories of a simpler time when all one needed to be an evil mastermind was a waterfront warehouse and a good cigar. Their also a dime a dozen, so they're a great economical choice for the evil overlord who's just getting started.

Robot Warriors- If you are looking for an unstoppable army of killing machines unhampered by such weaknesses as mercy or pity, robot warriors are for you. These metallic automatons will serve you without question, destroying your foes with their ray guns. They are also remarkably resilient, able to amazing amounts of damage before finally being blown to pieces. A variety of forms are usually available, such as humanoids, tanks, and fifty story high monstrosities beyond all comprehension. The only problem with these machines is that they have a tendency to rise up and destroy their organic masters, but fortunately, most lack the capacity for original thought, and are easily fooled by a shiny silver jumpsuit and a digitally altered voice.

Ninja- A favorite for good reason, ninja have style, dash, and possessing skills with blades, throwing stars, hand to hand combat, and in some cases some have even modern weapons like guns and tactical nuclear weapons. These masters of assassination will bring death on silent wings, eliminating enemies like those pesky heroes and defending your base with ease. They can also be used for spying purposes, with most of them able to become invisible and to scramble up walls with an ease that a spider would envy. A true force to reckon with, it's no wonder that ninja have won 'Henchmen of the Year' awards more other than any other Henchmen type.


	5. A Devil's Release

Hello once again people, and I hope you are having a wonderful day. As for myself, my fingers and wrists are killing me, as this chapter is a big one, clocking in at nearly 10500 words…

An advanced warning: this chapter is kinda gruesome in a horror/slasher type way. Meaning there will be blood, entrails, and lots of death on the part of some people.

Also, I would like to extend my thanks to everyone who has read this story, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. I am honored that you have kept coming back, as it means that I must be doing something right.

Lawyers: How many times do I have to say this? I own nothing!

That said, I hope you enjoy the tale, its violence aside…

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A Devil's Release

There were twenty of them altogether, a group of resistance soldiers from a village called Pinewood, located about fifty clicks to the southeast of Knothole. Currently, they were running through the sewers on a mission to remove a transport production facility from existence, and they were being as stealthy as they could. The Swat Bot defenses were on full alert at the moment, desperate to prevent any more damage from being done to the city. With two of droid factories now being little more than smoldering wreckage, every squadron of guerilla fighters that could be rounded up were being sent out on jobs that spanned from Robotropolis sabotage missions to convoy ambushes on the borders of the Great Unknown.

Pinewood hadn't really been able to contribute all that much, as it was one of the smaller bases, lacking vehicles and often being shorthanded. Of late, though, they had finally been able to start proving their worth, despite the fact that it was a four day march on foot to get to the city from where they were.

Overall, things were finally starting to be on the up and up. With two of his factories now defunct being combined with the ever increasing number of attacks, Robotnik had found himself so shorthanded that he had had to pull his forces back from the fronts and areas of lesser importance to defend his capital. The southern regions of Mobius had felt these effects the most, something that had been exploited to its fullest. In a series of brilliantly staged attacks, the resistance had actually managed to retake control of several cities.

But one couldn't be too cautious, as Death could strike at any time.

After all, the passing of the resistance's greatest warrior, some six weeks prior, was still fresh upon the minds of everyone.

"How's it looking up there?" a cougar by the name of Gunter, affectionately nicknamed Gunny by his comrades, inquired into a comm. system built into his command helmet.

"Looking clear so far, sir," came the voice of the point man, a gray furred squirrel named Rick.

"Keep alert, I don't want us getting surprised," he told the rest of the squad. "That goes double for you, Kara," he said, addressing the fox that was holding the rear.

"Relax, Gunny," she shot back, her tone a strange mix of being playful and serious at the same time, "I don't want to get spooked by those tin heads any more than you do."

After that, they fell silent, as they were drawing ever closer to their mission and ever deeper into the heart of enemy territory.

* * *

It was about five minutes later when they reached a manhole cover that would place them right in front of their objective. Gunter was the first up the ladder, reaching the top and halting momentarily while he reached down into a utility belt that was around his waste. Fumbling around for a moment, he withdrew a small endoscope and linked it up to the visor he was wearing. A moment later, a small viewing screen appeared on his helmet's HUD, and he then carefully eased it up through a hole in the steel covering.

Slowly, so as not to draw attention to it, he rotated the probe about, trying to discern what he and his comrades were going to be going up against.

Thirty seconds later, he'd gotten the place scoped out, and he withdrew the probe, before giving a downwards glance at the troopers that were below him.

"We've got half a dozen Swat Bots and a pair of Hover Bots covering the place," he whispered to Rick, and the squirrel quickly relayed the message down the line.

The cougar breathed deeply, knowing that the timing for what he was about to do would be critical. He exhaled as he reached back into his belt, and this time drew out a spherical object. He placed his thumb against the triggering mechanism of the device, and then slammed himself up against the manhole cover. The metal plate flew up into the air, immediately drawing the attention of the mechanized guards, who pointed their blasters at the now uncovered hole.

They were in for a nasty surprise, as Gunter pressed the button on the object he was holding and then chucked it out into the open.

Approximately three seconds later the grenade detonated, filling the air with a flash of roughly three hundred thousand lumens, more than enough to short out the droid guard's visual sensors.

Gunter was out of the hole the minute the flash died, knowing that they'd have only about four seconds before the Swat Bot's systems reset themselves. As he rushed forward, the cougar leveled his weapon, a LCC manufactured MP-7 submachine gun, and pulled the trigger. A hail of green energy erupted from the barrel of the blaster a moment later, scything through a pair of bots and literally cutting them off at the waist.

Rick was up right behind him, his own Emeraude E-11 plasma rifle sending crimson bolts at one of the Hover Bots. Floating helplessly in the air, it was struck by half a dozen shots, taking it out and ensuring that it would not be able to train its deadly laser cannons upon the group when it recuperated.

Two seconds had already passed, and they had four people up, while just as many bots lay as smoldering heaps against the concrete.

As the final two seconds passed, and their enemies regained their sight, Gunter and his comrades hosed the area with suppression fire, moving forward to ensure greater accuracy, something that was often a problem when firing a weapon on full automatic.

They were successful, and their foes dropped, ending the firefight before the robots had even had a chance to make a single return shot at anyone.

Nonetheless, the mission was only just beginning, and they would have to put the pedal down if they wanted to get this thing off without any more confrontations. Thus, they quickly rushed forward and brought up a hacking unit to slice into the security systems surrounding the transport facility.

However, unknown to them, a spy eye had captured their every move, and quickly relayed the images back to the central command chamber.

* * *

The beeping sound alerted the two Overlanders and the android that something was amiss. Ever the lackey, Snivley ran over to check it out, hoping it wasn't going to be something that resulted in him feeling a tremendous amount of pain. His uncle had been more irate than usual of late, seeing as how the cities of Station Square, Fortunas, and Dremoran were officially under Freedom Fighter control, and remained so despite several attempted counterattacks.

Thus, he was not exactly pleased when he saw what the security probe showed him.

"Sir," he said in a shaky voice, calling Julian's attention to the Freedom Fighter activity that was being carried out.

His uncle remained silent, but leaned forward in his command chair. Then, ever so slowly, a smile spread across the face of the despot, one laced with more malice and evil than Snivley had seen in years, and that was saying something.

"Excellent!" he remarked, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "This is just what we need, Snivley!"

"Sir?" the little man inquired, not fully certain as to what was going on.

Robotnik didn't respond, and instead punched a few buttons on his command chair's armrest. A holographic screen quickly popped up, revealing something that Snivley was still having a hard time getting used to seeing and not freaking out.

It was far smaller than a Swat Bot, though slightly taller than the average Mobian, and its build was also a bit heavier. At first glance, one would think this strange creature to be a robot of some sort, as it was covered from head to toe in layers of angular, blackish gray armor plates that certainly made it resemble one. The armor was clearly high-tech, but also bore a strange resemblance to the medieval protective gear one would associate with a knight or a samurai.

The chest was the most heavily armored region, being in possession of several layers of these plates, which overlapped each other to allow for the best possible combination of flexibility and protection. The first few layers were scarcely visible, due to the last one, but they were most obvious around the abdominal region, where they tapered downward, stopping about an inch or so above the armored belt. Most evident was the final layer, which started at about where the third pair of ribs would be and continued upwards till it reached the upper chest. At the pectoral regions, the plate bulged outward and then ran up again over the shoulders where it connected to the back of the armor and seemed to wrap around a strange bump in the center. Close inspection also revealed that the two straps were slightly different. The left one was much flatter, and headed back to another bump, this one much smaller than the one in the center, whereas the right one rose up to a somewhat triangular point that was even with the lower jaw of the helmet.

As for the headgear itself, it was angular like the rest of the armor, and the color of a rain ripened storm cloud. A dark, mirrored visor ran across where the thing's eyes were located, giving them impression of something altogether otherworldly on the other side of it.

And of course, there were the gauntlets, both of which had weapons set into them, among other things. The one of his right possessed a strange, metallic tube, while the left had what appeared to be a pair of foot or so long claws contained within, their points sticking out just behind its wrist, while another inch or so of them protruded from behind the mechanism in which they were housed.

It also had shin guards to protect its knees. These were in a single piece that roughly traced the muscles of the legs, and at first glance, almost appeared to be oversized. They ran down the shins until they reached the ankles. As with all the joints, the ankles were devoid of armor platting, again to allow for maximum maneuverability, being instead covered by a matte black armor weave. The plating of the boots was layered like the chest, and their soles were covered in multiple layers of heat resistant, padded polymers. This enabled the being behind the suit to move with a surprising amount of stealth, despite the armor's tank like appearance.

Yes, one might think this thing to be a robot, but Snivley knew better… knew that this… soldier… was far more dangerous than any droid.

"Norrack," Robotnik said quietly, in an almost cajoling manner.

Immediately, the addressed thing shot its head up, looking at the despot through a screen in its holding quarters.

"Alert as always, my little pet," Julian cooed, something that coming from him, would have caused most to shudder in fear.

Norrack remained silent, continuing to stare up at the overlord, awaiting his orders.

"A group of Freedom Fighters has broken into factory number zero two five," he told the strange creature, before pressing a few more controls. "I am sending you the coordinates now, and I want you to head out there and stop them by any means necessary."

The creature nodded once, and then bolted, heading out the door of its holding chamber and off to deal with the problem. A smile that would have caused a demon to shiver crept over Julian's face, but Snivley decided that someone had to play the voice of reason.

"Sir," he said, thinking about how best to put this, "are you certain that it is wise to send Norrack out so soon? I mean, we have only just finished assimilating him and he has shown surprising resistance to the neural chip."

"And why am I not allowed to go out and deal with them?" Mecha inquired, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning.

The repairs to the android had been finished only a few days ago, and as a result he was itching for something to take out. Now, here was a golden opportunity being wasted upon his master's new toy.

"Do not fear, Snivley," Robotnik said, that grin still plastered upon his face, "while I will admit that I am surprised by the level of willpower that he showed when we were preparing him, we have at last managed to break him, and you needn't fear of him turning upon us." He then swiveled his chair around to face the android that was present. "As for you, Mecha, you are not going out to help Norrack because this is a testing run, to see if he will be able to do everything that I hope he can."

Mecha did not look convinced, but Snivley himself held little doubt that the nightmare that they had created would be capable of doing all of that and more. Armed to the teeth with weapons for both close and long range combat, encased in armor that would make him all but invincible to harm, and possessing speed and strength beyond anything a 'normal' Mobian could hope to match, Norrack was something that any sane being would fear. However, even more dangerous than those, was his mind. Uploaded and flash trained into his brain was nearly everything that the killing machine would need to know, from rigging up improvised bombs to covert espionage to close range assassination, not to mention the technical readouts of every single weapon and vehicle that either side had in use at the moment… and more importantly, their weaknesses.

Even his name told of his purpose.

In the Ancient Mobian dialect, Norrack roughly translated into "the Angel of Death," and Snivley, having observed the thing in action against Swat Bots during practices, held little doubt that he would definitely live up to his name.

So why did he have the sinking feeling that they might have made a mistake in creating him?

He looked up to the primary control screen, which was showing the hallways of the command center whizzing by a rather rapid rate. Norrack's helmet had a 'black box' styled camera in it that fed data directly back to the control center, for the purpose of monitoring his status and as Robotnik had termed it 'so he could get a front row view of his pet in action.'

Somewhere, deep within his cold heart, Snivley actually felt a brief moment of pity for those soldiers, as fate was not going to be kind to them today.

* * *

Norrack was swift to reach the factory that the resistance soldiers were trying to knock offline, and made his insertion via the rooftop, through a skylight that had logs had shown had been broken a couple of days ago but that the Tech Bots had been unable to fix due to more pressing matters.

He then took the opportunity to switch on his most lethal tool, which ironically enough, wasn't even a weapon in the traditional sense.

Quiet as a breeze in the night, he headed along a catwalk near the very top of the factory. He knew the general layout of a facility of this type, and as such, knew what points the enemy would be heading after. He also knew that in order to pull it off, that they would have to split up into smaller groups. That made his job all the easier.

About two minutes later, the first sounds of the Freedom Fighters at work reached his ears as he approached a coolant control module. The device was used to quickly chill down the frames of the transport ships as they were being carried out of the forge, and thus, something that Robonik would not want blown up.

Rounding a corner, he saw them. They were both canines, and a trio of Swat Bos lay in heaps around them. One was busy rigging up a demolition charge, while the other had a rifle out, and was watching for potential threats.

The sentry looked in his direction, and Norrack froze, remaining stock still. For several seconds, the canine scanned about, looking right at the nightmare that was about to enter his world, but never seeing him.

"Hudson, hurry it up, will ya? We're going to wind up slowing everyone down." he asked as he went and looked the other way, and the demon began to creep towards them.

"Don't rush me here, Carlos," the other dog shot back, irritation present in his voice, "just keep a lookout and make sure there aren't any more robots around. I can't shake the feeling we're being watched."

"Would you just relax about that already?" Carlos said, looking down a corridor that led back to the primary control area as the hunter drew closer to his comrade. "If there were any other Swat Bots in here, we'd know by now. They're not exactly stealthy."

"I know," Hudson said, sighing deeply as Norrack crept up to where he was less than a foot behind him, "but I…"

There was a quite hissing noise, followed swiftly by a second, then a thump and a slight gurgle.

Carlos, rather confused about his comrade's sudden silence, looked back over his shoulder to find his buddy on the floor of the catwalk. In the gloomy light of the facility, he couldn't see exactly what was wrong, but as he drew close, he heard a slight squishing noise, and upon looking down, noticed that he'd just stepped into a fairly dark liquid.

His eyes widening and his breathing quickening, the canine reached out and rolled his buddy over. Half a second later, he regretted doing so.

Hudson was dead, but whatever had killed him had done it by literally slicing his friend open from groin to sternum, and his guts were in a heap underneath him. Carlos felt bile rise in his throat, and he took a step back in a hasty manner, and slipped on the spreading pool of Hudson's life fluid, falling prone upon the ground. He quickly got back up, frantically waving his rifle around, knowing that whatever had done this to his friend would have had to have been close by.

Moving backwards, very much aware of the slickness on his armor and fur that could have only been one thing, he maintained enough level headedness to reach out and quickly activate the charge. He then began to pace backwards once more, constantly waving his gun around, lest this strange killer catch him unawares.

In the dim light, he never realized that when he was looking at his friend's body, that he could have reached out and laid his hands upon the being that had struck Hudson down.

"Gunny?" he said as he yanked out his comm.

"What is it, Carlos?" came the voice of his superior. "Are you and Hudson done activating that charge yet?"

"Hudson's down!" the dog replied, his voice a little shaky.

"What?" Gunter responded.

"He's K.I.A!" Carlos shouted back as he continued to slowly move towards the end of the corridor, and he could already see the light that came form the large room behind him, where he knew Gunter, Rick, and Kara were, getting ready to demolish the control area.

"Swat Bots?" Rick asked in a grave tone, having picked up on the conversation.

"I don't know!" the dog responded as he finally got out into the light, and licked his lips, as he continued to star down the corridor, where he could still see his friend's corpse.

What he couldn't see at that distance was the silent killer getting ready to pounce once more. Hiding in the shadows, he decided that this time, his prey should look upon him before dying.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Gunter asked, very worried as he looked down to where the dog was at from an observational window.

"I mean I didn't see the damn thing!" the resistance soldier shouted, looking back and up to where the other three Freedom Fighters were.

It would prove to be a fatal mistake.

He heard a loud pounding, and looking back down, saw something charging at him, moving faster than anything he'd ever seen before in his life.

"What the fier…" he started to say, leveling his rifle.

The poor guy never had a chance.

Norrack crossed the eighty odd foot distance between the two of them in a little under a second and a half, reaching back and drawing something from his back with his right hand at the same time. Out of nowhere, a strange, aqua white light sprang, revealing him to a degree as he prepared to finish this one off.

From the control window, Gunter and the others watched in confusion, and then horror, as something charged out of the shadows, and struck Carlos with what almost appeared to be a curving band of light.

The strange weapon sliced through the ferrosteel battle armor that the dog had been wearing, before continuing down, cutting through his left collar bone, into his chest, and finally coming out the other side. The resistance soldier's body fell in half an instant later, both parts thudding against the floor as the light suddenly became blurry and then disappeared.

For a moment, the trio up in the control room stood paralyzed by what they had witnessed, before Gunter sprang into action. He activated his mike's all call mode, which sent out a signal powerful enough to reach every team, despite the heavy interference of the factory equipment. It would doubtlessly be picked up by the enemy down amongst them, but that was officially a moot point right now.

"All teams, report in now!" he snarled into his mike as he continued to star down at Carlos' body, noticing the strange absence of blood from around the corpse, especially considering the manner in which he had been killed.

"What's the matter, Gunny?" one soldier inquired, quickly chorused by his fellows.

"Set your charges and get back here ASAP!" he ordered, his eyes darting about, thinking perhaps to catch a glimpse of whatever had just attacked.

"What's going on?" another team inquired.

"Hudson and Carlos are down," he told them, his voice grave, "and whatever got them just blindsided them from out of nowhere. Now get back here!" he snarled, before closing the link.

"What do you think that thing could have been?" Rick asked, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I don't know," Gunter replied. "But I think we need to get out of here, and fast."

It was about thirty seconds later that it happened. Two teams came into view from where the trio was, and they nodded in relief that they were alright.

Then a feminine scream echoed over the comm. channel, which was swiftly cut off.

"What the hell?" came the voice of the girl's partner, laced with terror.

There was the sharp cracking of plasma rounds filling the air, followed by a strange humming noise. This was followed by an incoherent yell, and the sound of plasma rounds ricocheting. The bizarre humming sounded again, cutting off the yell. Then there was a pair of thuds, and silence.

The trio of resistance soldiers looked at each other, realizing that this unknown killer had struck once more. Gunter growled, baring his fangs, these were his soldiers that were dying, his friends.

When they regrouped, they would be getting out of here, but he swore that if they crossed paths with that thing again, that he would rip out its motherboard with his bare hands.

* * *

They managed to regroup without further incident, and they proceeded to try to bug out of the facility, all of them constantly scanning about with their eyes, their fingers upon the triggers of their weapons.

They were near the entrance to the transport production facility when Death stalked them once again.

It happened as they were walking by a series of heavy chains and hooks that were attached to the large containers that the raw, liquid metal was taken from and then poured into the various molds needed in the production process. The proximity to these huge vats of molten steel, some thirty or forty feet below, made the air nearly unbreathable and cast a hellish glow around the area.

Rick was on point, so he failed to see it, but everyone else watched as the air seemed to suddenly move, and the soldier that was right behind him was abruptly made shorter by a head, dying without so much as a gurgle or a yelp of surprise.

The squirrel turned as he heard the horrified gasps, and then he and the others saw it.

It was hanging from one of the chains, no more than a couple of feet away from its victim. Rick felt his lower jaw try to detach itself from the rest of his face as he stared at it, and realized on some instinctive level, that it was looking right at him. He supposed that it was some strange, sixth sense, as he really couldn't see the thing all that well. Matter of fact, all he could see was a blurred distortion where the chain seemed a little out of place.

His body finally seemed to unfreeze, his brain at last getting the message to attack through to the rest of the body. The squirrel raised his E-11, and the thing exploded into action, leaping off of the chain and landing on the catwalk. He fired at it twice, and the blur shifted violently, that strange humming sound once again filling the air. The next thing that the Freedom Fighter knew, he was watching, once more amazed, as the two crimson energy bolts that he sent flying at it hit part of it, and then came streaking back at him.

The plasma bolts nailed him in the chest, but his armor held up, though the impact nearly knocked him off of his feet. At the same time, the bizarre killer whirled about, and grabbed another soldier, a rabbit, picking her up and throwing her over the edge of the cat walk. She screamed as she fell, her body hurling towards one of the vats, a terrified light in her eyes as she realized what was going to happen.

The living nightmare wasn't done yet.

Once more, the blur moved, and out of nowhere, flames crackled and erupted. It was just a brief puff, but it was enough to turn one of the soldiers into a Mobian torch. The screams were horrifying to hear, and the sight itself was something that everyone knew they would carry to their graves. The soldier flailed about, dropping to the ground and rolling around in a desperate bid to douse the flames. It would prove to be in vain, and the rest of the squadron watched, helpless, at the fire licked at his fur and his armor, consuming it before moving onto his flesh.

The blur moved again, leaping out and grabbing a chain that was nearly twelve feet away from the catwalk, before leaping once more and grabbing another one. Judging by the rippling, it seemed to be climbing the chain, and Rick felt a rage come over him. Heedless of the consequences, he opened up with his rifle. It proved to be something of a signal to his comrades, as their own blasters were added to the mix a moment later, lighting up the dark recesses of the factory as they tried to let the law of averages take care of this enigmatic foe.

For about ten seconds, they continued firing, trying to cut down their enemy with the sheer number of bolts they were throwing into the air, until their leader managed to get through to them.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Gunter called, waving his left hand frantically. "Stop wasting your ammo!"

Finally, he seemed to be able to get through to them, they the lowered their weapons.

Their comrade on the floor had finally stopped thrashing and now lay dead, charred beyond recognition. They all stared at the man, and the corpse of the other soldier, and then back to their leader. The cougar could see it in their eyes, the fear that was growing greater by the moment, and he could hardly blame them. This was a new type of enemy, not like anything ever before encountered by them. This one was fast, strong, and very cunning.

It was a predator, a hunter, and they were the game.

Adding to that was the strange cloaking ability that this thing seemed to have, which brought up probably the oldest military problem in the book: how does one fight something that one cannot even see?

"Everyone stay calm," Gunter said, trying to add as much authority to his voice as he could to cover up the fear that was gnawing at his entrails. "We're getting out of here and then heading back for Pinewood. Stay close, keep alert, and for the love of the Goddess, stay away from the shadows!"

They moved on, unaware that the emissary of Death watched their every move.

It waited seven seconds after they were out of sight before it sprung into action once more, heading back up to where the skylight was.

* * *

They were finally outside of that hell accursed place, and Gunter had never thought the smoggy skies of Robotropolis could ever look so inviting. He breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to face the rest of them. It was time to wrap this mission up and go home before anyone else got killed. Looking at his submachine gun, he opted to reload it, but not wanting to have to wait any longer to take care of their objective, he tossed the charge detonator to a ferret named Marty, who nodded, and lifted his arm to press down the buttons.

As he did so, Gunter saw something strange. A trio of red dots suddenly appeared on the ferret's forearm. A split second later, the cougar realized what they had to be, and opened his mouth to shout a warning. He was too late though.

A trio of cracks split the air, and time itself seemed to slow. A whitish blue plasma bolt connected with Marty's wrist, exploding and taking out both his hand and the detonator within it. A look of surprise manifested itself upon the ferret's visage, just as another bolt connected, this time with his elbow. Then came the third, which slammed into his shoulder. Less than a second after the initial shot had connected, what was left of Marty's arm fell to the ground, and then the pain reached his brain.

The ferret screamed as he fell to his knees, gripping his wounded area and squeezing his eyes shut. The trio of dots appeared again, this time upon his agonized face. The cracks split the air once again, and his screams were cut short a moment later, as it is difficult to cry out when one lacks a head.

The corpse slumped down into the streets, and Gunter looked back up, scanning the rooftops to see what he could find.

He almost missed it, would have, in fact, if not for the plasma fire that came from it a moment later.

Next to him, another one of his men dropped, a gapping hole blown in his chest as the bolts tore through his armor and kept on going, nearly ripping the guerilla's body apart.

"Take cover!" the cougar screamed, diving out of the way, a move that would save his life.

Another burst of fire came in, impacting where he had been not a moment before, and he saw the blur, up on a rooftop some two hundred or so feet away, suddenly leap down into the gap between the building it was on and the one next to it. He kept his submachine gun trained upon the alleyway, waiting for the thing to reemerge, but it never did.

The cougar spared a quick look around at his fellows. He could see the fear in their eyes, the tremble in their hands as they nervously gripped their weapons. They were ready to break and run, and he could hardly blame them. This demon that hunted them had taken down nine of their comrades, nearly half of them, a catastrophic loss by anyone's standards, and they had yet to so much as score a hit upon the thing as far as they could tell.

"What are we going to do, Gunny?" Kara asked him, inching a little closer to her friend.

"We're bugging out," he told her, never taking his eyes off of the alleyway that their foe had gone into. "And we're taking the above ground route."

"You do realize that's going to add Swat Bots and the like to our list of things to watch out for in addition to this freak that's picking us off, right?" Rick growled, not pleased with the idea of more enemies.

"Better that than trekking back through the sewers!" Gunter shot back. "We can hardly see that thing as it is, and down there, we'd be walking right into its element."

Rick opened his mouth to say something, but then he clamped it shut, apparently realizing the logic behind his leader's actions.

So they took off once more, each and every one of them staring over their shoulders now and again, wondering if and when, the wraith that now dominated their fears would manifest itself once more.

* * *

About five or six minutes had passed since their ghost like foe had attacked them outside of the factory, and all had noticed that their path remained strangely devoid of any type of mechanized activity. No Swat Bots on patrol, no hover units passing overhead, not a single thing. Frankly, it had them all unnerved, and Gunter couldn't shake the idea that they were being used like guinea pigs… lab rats in a fiendish test of some sort.

He had no idea how right he was.

Unbeknownst to them, the Angel of Death stalked them once again, moving along the tops of the roofs. Norrack stayed far enough away from the edge that his prey would not see him from the ground, relying upon his hearing to keep a good idea of what they were up to and where they were going.

He had completed his objective, but his master had commanded that he should continue to pursue the would-be saboteurs, and wipe them out in the most painful and brutal manner that he could. Deep down, some faint part of himself seemed to recoil at the notion of this, but that voice had quickly been stomped out by the sound of his master's.

He was a tool, a weapon. That was his purpose, his role in life. He was an instrument of destruction, one that did his job and did it well because that was what he was supposed to do. So the other voices in his head told him when the slightest bit of questioning should arise from the depths of his sub consciousness.

Thus, he continued to stalk the prey, and he tried to contemplate what their next move would be, keeping up a good pace on the tops of the buildings. They were staying out in the open and moving fast, which would make it considerably more difficult to take them down. Under normal circumstances, the plasma caster integrated into his armor would have been more than sufficient, and he would have simply jumped down into the street, and unleashed its destructive power upon them.

However, his master had been adamant when he had given his orders, wishing for them to be killed in a more painful manner than that, which meant melee combat.

As he had been commanded, it would be carried out.

The nearly invisible killing machine leapt into the air as he approached the edge of a structure, easily clearing the ten feet of separation between the two buildings and coming down with barely a break in his stride.

He spared a look around as he kept on running, realizing that if they kept to their current route, that his prey would be out of the city in a matter of about five more minutes. He would need to strike, and soon. But how was he to do that?

They were on to him, knew of his ability to hide in plain sight and as such would be very alert and ready. On the other hand, if he was able to still infiltrate amongst them, it would make his prowess all the more terrifying, and from what he had learned of psychological warfare, an enemy that was terrified of you was an enemy that was already half beaten.

A plan formed in his mind, one that would definitely be acceptable under the given circumstances.

He increased his pace, accelerating to a full blown run. While he was certainly not anywhere near as fast as Mecha, he was still capable of reaching a maximum sprinting speed of approximately seventy five kilometers an hour, far greater than any ordinary person could.

He reached the edge of a building, and hopped down into the alleyway, before becoming as stiff and still as a statue. He then waited for the opportune moment, the point in time that would be the most ideal to strike, catching the enemy in the most vulnerable position and generating the maximum amount of fear while minimizing the risk to himself.

That moment came about thirty seconds later, when the group of Freedom Fighters began to pass by. They were still in the middle of the road, about forty feet away, but well within striking distance nonetheless. The middle of the squadron of eleven passed him, and he burst into action, sprinting out of the concealment of darkness and charging right at them.

One of them noticed the movement, saw the blur moving in at the group, and went to shout a warning. The heads up came too late though, and the emissary of Death was among them in a flash, and set upon them like a wolf upon sheep.

That bizarre humming sound filled the air once more, and a soldier fell, her final moments a choked and agonized cry as she was cleaved in half at the sternum, her battle armor parting before her slayer's unseen weapon as if it was nonexistent. The blur shifted again after that, and another cry filled the air, another man falling as his right leg seemed to suddenly come apart, blood spewing everywhere. As he went down, though, the nearly invisible demon reached out and grabbed him around his left ankle. In a flash, the Mobian was being dragged away, screaming in pain and fear as the thing dashed back into the alley with its prize in tow.

Gunter got a final good look at the man before he disappeared into darkness and shadow, his eyes wide and in shock and agony over his injury, while fear of the nameless terror that had him in its grip caused his pupils to dilate beyond a point that the cougar would have thought possible. And just like that, he could see no more, as the wraith hauled him out of sight.

Screams echoed from within the alley's dark confines, pain laced and terrible to hear. The group stood paralyzed as the unseen torture continued, the sounds of that humming, a wet splattering noise, and the poor soldier's ever more horrified cries mixing together like a hellish symphony, and they found themselves helplessly riveted by it.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and all went silent.

Being of hunting cat descent, Gunter could see a little better than most of the others, and thought he could faintly see something move in the back of the alley, which finally snapped him back to reality. He quickly raised his gun, and opened fire into the narrow area, thinking that if nothing else, they could trap their adversary in a place where he could not move. He might charge out again, but even if he did, the squad leader held little doubt that a few dozen plasma bolts would take him down.

The rest of the squad joined in a moment later, lighting up the entire recess of the alleyway, and the cougar felt himself about to retch as he saw what had happened in the concealment of the shadows.

The soldier that the thing had grabbed was all over the inside of the alley, his lifeblood spattered upon the buildings like some brutal mockery of a painting. Here lay a foot, the leg that it had once been connected to lying some ten feet away. The soldier's head and torso weren't connected either, and what had once been inside of his upper body lay in a pile some five feet to the right of his chest.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the horrible sight while he continued to fire, screaming incoherently as he did so until his weapon ran out of power.

One by one, the squad members depleted their power packs, and it was only then that they ceased firing.

As they did though, one very sobering thought wormed its way into Gunter's head. Despite the multitude of blaster and plasma bolts that they'd filled the alleyway with, which probably would have taken out an armored vehicle, they had heard no cries of pain, no loud 'thunk' as their foe had fallen, and certainly no sound of a deafening explosion as it went up in smoke. Nor had they seen anything of that nature either.

Conclusion: they hadn't hit a fierfeking thing.

Fear as he had never known it surged through his mind, irrational thoughts mixing with the rational as he tried to figure out what was going on. Nothing… nothing on the face of the whole planet could have dodged that much firepower at that range, even Mecha would have been turned into a pile of slag by that barrage.

Of course, that bit of statistical data was immediately negated by the very disturbing realization that the thing had apparently done just that.

Gunter swallowed, wetting his throat and trying to push the fear that he felt down into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't easy, but he managed to do it, managed to conquer the panic that was rapidly threatening to overwhelm him. Then he took a good look around to the nine remaining comrades that he had. Rick, Kara, and everyone else were apparently having the same problems that he had had; he could see it in their eyes. They were ready to break, to abandon any semblance of discipline and bolt wildly.

And that, he knew, would be the death of them all.

Goddess above, how he wished Derrick was here. He definitely didn't like the guy, but the grizzled old veteran would have been able to hold them together, and might have even known what in the Nine Hells that thing was.

But he wasn't here, and Gunter knew he would simply have to make do without. Trying his best to reassure his comrades, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on the shoulders of each and every one of them, letting them know that they were not alone, and silently trying to convince them and himself, that despite everything, they were going to get out of this SNAFU alive.

He paused just long enough to shut the eyes of the female that had died amongst them, before grabbing her gear and ordering the remains of the squad to move out.

As always, Death watched from above, stalking silently, waiting for that moment when he should strike.

This time though, he could not afford to be nearly as patient as he had been in the past, as they were drawing ever nearer to the edge of the city. However, fate, luck, or something must have been siding with the hunter that day, as it wasn't long before a freighter came rumbling over the street.

The engines and repulsor lifts appeared to be straining to keep the behemoth ship in the air, and he knew exactly why. Many of the cargo freighters had been destroyed by the resistance of late, and Robotnik had been forced to put far more on them than would otherwise be advisable, lest the shipments to whatever place they were heading off to not come up to quota or something like that. As it was, the thing was only about fifteen feet above the rooftops of the buildings.

Norrack braced himself, and leaped up and out.

He reached out and grasped a hold of metal bar that was hanging down from the side of the freighter, and prepared himself for his next move.

Dangling like that, he looked down and beheld his quarry, still dashing about on the street below. However, they knew that these transports were simply designed for bulk shipping, and that they carried no weapons and were normally only manned by Tech Bots, so there was little that they would have to worry about.

That assumption would be the death of them.

The hunter waited, holding on to the bar until he was directly above them, and then he let go. Gravity was swift to claim him, and he prepared himself, getting his weapons ready as the ground rocketed up to meet him.

As luck would have it, the breaking of his fall was assisted by a retreating Freedom Fighter who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Norrack brought his full sixty kilograms of weight down upon the unfortunate mouse, his armored feet crushing him into the pavement and snuffing out the guerilla soldier's life.

That would prove to be the straw that broke the terrapod's back.

The sight of this enigmatic demon once more descending into their midst like an otherworldly wraith, and striking down the twelfth member of the squadron caused the fear to overwhelm them, and they turned to bolt and flee, no thoughts save those of self preservation.

It was to be expected. Keep whittling away at an enemy, picking them off one or two at a time from the shadows, leaving them utterly clueless as to what was doing this to them, and their minds would start to play tricks on them, magnifying the enemy until it was something greater than it truly was, until it reached supernatural proportions, and they felt as if Chaos himself were upon them. It also helped if one made the deaths of their comrades as violent and brutal as was possible, as such sights tended to overwhelm the mind and dominate the rest of their thinking capacity.

But fleeing from a foe of this nature, from a warrior such as himself that was already so far beyond them, sealed their doom. It even made his job easier, as now he no longer had to worry about retaliatory fire.

As they scattered like a flock of animals hit by a predator, he leaped again. A girl that was attempting to bolt into the shadows of any alleyway cried out in agony as he raked her with his wrist talons, falling to the ground and grasping at her back, screaming all the more when she realized that her fingers were brushing up against her own ribs.

The blow had been only glancing, but it had been enough, and now the silent and deadly wraith proceeded to finish the job. He stuck his foot underneath her, and then kicked up violently, throwing the female into the air. He jumped up after her, twirling around and bringing his blade to bear upon her. As always, it made its mysterious humming sound as it whipped around, before splitting her in twain.

Landing at about the same time as what was left of his victim did, Norrack sighted up the rest of the forces.

One was attempting to flee back the way that he had come, deeper into the city. He already had about an eighty foot head start, but that wouldn't save him. A thought was all that was needed, and the hunter had his plasma caster armed and ready.

Upon the left side of his visor's HUD, a crosshair became displayed, which he quickly managed to get up over the fleeing soldier.

_Shooting solution acquired…_ his HUD informed him, indicating a lock on.

He concentrated, and five sharp cracks split the air. The blue white bolts sailed towards their target, impacting, shredding the armor, and blowing the guerilla off of his feet. He skidded for a ways before friction brought him to a stop, steam coming from his back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more movement, and he instinctively raised his flamethrower, activating it as soon as he had it properly oriented. The oily, liquid flames became visible as they left the range of his cloaking device. The raccoon that had been the target of the attack fell to the ground, crying out as the fire began to eat away at him and the air suddenly began to reek of burnt flesh.

About a half second of running brought him up behind the fourth soldier, and he lashed out with both of his melee weapons. Blood gushed from the soldier's waist as it suddenly became separated from the rest of the body, a distinction that the head also gained about a tenth of a second later.

It had been less than nine seconds since he had first dropped down and started his attack, and already half of the remaining soldier's lay dead. Now it was time to get number five, who was running on the other side of the street.

Squatting down for a moment, Norrack coiled up and then leaped. He twisted and pivoted as he was in the air, and when he came down, more than twenty feet away from where he had started, he landed right in front of the fleeing Mobian. The soldier's mouth opened to scream as he realized that Death was upon him, and raised his weapon in a futile effort to drive off the demon that had appeared in front of him.

Norrack lashed out with his claws, easily cutting the gun in half, before driving his sword home. The man's scream was cut short as the weapon entered his heart, appearing as a blurry distortion when it emerged from his back. With a motion that would have seemed to be filled with contempt if he were fully visible, the hunter ripped the weapon out and spun around, ducking down slightly and using his claws to eviscerate the Freedom Fighter while he was at it.

This put him in the perfect position to sprint after the sixth victim, who apparently heard him coming, and turning around had just enough time to begin to scream in denial as he leapt into the air and came down. He struck fast and furiously, bisecting the Mobian, letting the two halves fall to the ground as he looked around for the seventh, eight, and ninth soldiers.

They were nowhere to be found, and the hunter felt a slight bit of irritation at the notion that they might have gotten away. Then a plan formed in his head, and he quickly moved to implement it, heading into the nearest alley.

* * *

Gunter panted, his breathing loud and harsh as he struggled to keep enough oxygen into his lungs.

He, Rick, and Kara were hiding out in another alley about a hundred feet up the road from where the ambush had taken place, and judging by the ominously quiet street, which seconds before had been filled with screams of terror, it was probably safe to assume that they were the only ones left alive.

He looked around to the other two, and saw tears beginning to form in Kara's eyes, as well as Rick's. He would have been joining them in their silent mourning for their fellows, but leadership did not allow for such luxuries, at least not right now. He had to figure out how to get out of here alive.

Their mission might have failed, their comrades might have been lying in pools of their own blood all along the path, but somehow, they had to escape. The other Freedom Fighter groups needed to be warned of this new fiend that Robotnik had under his control. If they were unable to get the word out, then other groups would suffer their fate.

Ever so slowly, he peeked around the corner, ready to pull back at the moment he heard or saw anything that was out of place.

All he could see were the corpses in the street, and no plasma fire came to try and add him to the body count. The thing seemed to have left.

"What do we do, Gunny?" Kara inquired, coming up next to him, and he could feel her shivering in fear.

"The city exit's about a half a click up this road," the cougar told her, gesturing up in the proper direction with his head, "we're going to make a break for it. We form a circle as well, everyone taking a different angle, that way that thing can't get the drop on us."

"I'm ready." she told him, trying to cover up the quiver in her voice.

"You good to go, Rick?" Gunter inquired.

He got no response, save for the crunching of gravel and a slight coughing noise.

"Rick?" he asked again, hoping that his friend hadn't turned into a basket case on him.

He still got no answer, and he turned around.

Rick appeared to hover in mid air, dangling about two feet off of the ground, his back arched upwards and his face twisted, his jaws parted in a silent scream. He could see blood running down the squirrel's chest and out of his mouth.

Then came the dramatic climax of this whole chase.

Behind his dying friend, the air seemed to shimmer, shifting about until at long last, after all they had been through, the nameless and unknown killer revealed itself to them.

As they gazed upon Norrack, the wrist talons mounted upon the left arm retracted. The squirrel slumped to the ground, quite dead.

Without hesitation, the cougar leveled his weapon, and fired off a few rounds at the strange warrior. As if intending to mock him, Norrack remained stock still. The plasma bolts came sailing in, but before they could connect with his armor, they suddenly dissipated, and a bizarre, crackling energy field appeared around him. The field disappeared as quickly as it had manifested itself, and the otherworldly killing machine cocked its head to one side, its emotionless mask appearing to ask the question of 'is that your best shot?'

Something snapped inside of Gunter, and he lunged at the thing, throwing down his submachine gun and leaping towards it. As soon as his feet had left the ground, the thing leaped into the air as well, though its course was much more vertical than his own. Too late, Gunter realized his error, as the thing round housed him in the chest. He felt his ribs crack, followed by a blinding agony in the back of his head as he slammed against he dura-crete of a building.

Sliding to the ground, he looked up, his vision blurred by pain. He was just in time to watch the thing pull a strange, seven or so inch cylindrical device from its back. A humming noise reached his ears, and that glowing beam of light filled the air again. This close, the cougar noted that the blade appearance reminded him slightly of the exotic weapons he'd seen in the History of Warfare Museum. However, that thought was just a minor one, barely noticeable over the pain and the horror that he felt, knowing what was about to happen.

The thing dashed at Kara, who didn't even have time to react before the strange weapon was plunged up to the hilt into her chest.

Rage consumed the cougar, as he stared into her eyes, filled with shock, and a silent plead for help. The anger drove off the blackness that had been threatening to consume him, and he got to his feet, heedless of the pain that raged through him.

He dashed at the slayer of his friends, and once more lunged, silently vowing to tear this thing to pieces for what it had done.

But vengeance would not be his.

With a fluidity that seemed impossible for a normal being to possess, the masked devil spun about, ripping the unusual light blade out of Kara, and letting her fall. At the same time, it reached up with its left hand, and easily grabbed the cougar around his neck as he came flying in.

Like a being that was possessed, he struggled, thrashing about and trying to pry this thing's crushing grip off of his windpipe. The grip did relax slightly after a few seconds, just enough for him to breathe, but he knew, deep down, that it was because this thing had chosen to do so, not because he had managed to loosen it at all.

He couldn't believe how strong this thing was. He was no lightweight, coming in at four foot eight, and weighing the better part of fifty kilos. Yet this thing was holding him, thrashing a good foot off of the ground, with nothing more than a single hand. The thing pulled him in close, and he could see his own face reflected back at him from the visor that was set into its helmet.

Norrack held the final member of the squadron, preparing to crush his neck, when suddenly the voice of his master sounded through the audio receptors of his helmet.

"No! Wait, Norrack!" Robotnik shouted over his comm. system, and the hunter did.

He couldn't see his master, couldn't watch as the massive overlord rubbed his hands together like a kid who had just gotten what he'd most wanted at yuletide.

"Let him go," his master stated, much more calm now, his voice dripping with evil.

The hunter was confused, but he did release his grip upon his prey.

Gunter gasped as he hit the ground, and glared up at the silent killer, wondering what it was up to. Then, to his immense surprise, it leapt up. He turned his head to watch it, as it hit a spot on the wall nearly fifteen feet up, bracing its boots against the dura-crete before pushing off. Once more, it went sailing up, until it reached the other wall, where it repeated the maneuver. This put it out of sight, as it had gotten over a rooftop.

Only then did he understand how the thing was able to stalk them so efficiently, how it had gotten around without them seeing it, and how it had evaded their attempt to take it out earlier. The movement he had seen was it starting to leap out of the alley… they had been shooting at nothing.

However, looking at the dead bodies of his friends, he could not bear to continue to think about the strange demon that had done this to them.

Crawling over to it, now very much aware of how much he ached, Gunter cradled Kara's body in his arms, rocking it back and forth, letting the tears come.

There was a faint rumble overhead, and it soon began to rain with such a torrent that it would seem as though heaven itself wept for the fallen this day.

* * *

For how long he stayed like that, the cougar had no idea. But when he again became aware of his surroundings, he knew that he had to leave. Much as it pained him, he could not carry the bodies of his fallen comrades, and as much as might have wished that he was with them, he had to warn the others back at Pinewood, and get the word out about this new terror.

Slowly getting to his feet, trying to ignore the burning agony in his chest, the cougar dashed out of the alleyway, racing towards the city limits.

Unknown to him, was the blur that came out of the one opposite to him, and quickly matched his pace, following him turn for turn as he rushed home.

* * *

Unknown to all parties present, was that a certain roboticized hedgehog had gotten a glimpse of Norrack when he'd started his little rampage in the production facility. One of the bugs he had placed in the camera systems caught him as he was in the process of cutting down Carlos.

Uncle Chuck stood stock still at his computer monitor, his mechanized eyes blinking several times over the next few seconds, as a combination of disbelief, dread, and self loathing welled up inside of himself.

"It can't be…" he whispered, hoping against hope that he was just seeing things.

Then he dismissed such wishful thinking and sprang into action. His fingers began to fly across the keyboard as he started uploading computer spikes and wedges, throwing all of his skills at hacking into Robotnik's files.

It only took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for.

On his screen was a massive file, a single word denoting its purpose: ARC.

Beneath it, a message blinked the status of the project, and Charles knew dismay as never before as he read it.

_Project Reactivated_.

He quickly downloaded all of the information, and the security camera footages, onto a data information disc, and then made his way to the escape tunnel that was located in the bottom of his hideout. It would perhaps be faster to get someone to come and pick him up, but he would not risk that, not with that thing running around. He knew all too well what it was capable of doing.

It seemed as though the ghosts of his past refused to stay buried.

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Okay, hope I didn't offend anyone with the copious amounts of bloodshed, and those of you not familiar with my writings, you may now be realizing that I am quite fond of killing off my OCs, for reasons even I have not been able to figure out yet.

Also, I need to point out that the ARC at the end of this chapter was not a typo, and is not to be confused with the thing from the games, it is an entirely different project that we are dealing with here. As a matter of fact, anyone who has read some of the new Clone Wars books might actually recognize that acronym and know what it stands for. For those of you who do not, it will be explained with the next chapter. That might take a while to get out, as I have to write up and finish the next chapter for my other story, and I ask that you please bear with me.

With that in mind, I once again welcome all forms of reviews, be it a general comment, an idea, constructive criticism or general advice. Heck even flames will be welcomed, as they will be used to heat my home in the coming winter, or in the event that a hurricane knocks us off the civilization grid sometime in the coming future.

Thank you all once again, and I hope you have a great week.


	6. Darkest Secrets

Hello again everyone. I apologize for the delay in getting this thing up, there has been some form of bug or something that has prevented me from uploading anything… and the administrators took their sweet time getting to it… Compounding this is my other story, which is giving me a bit of writers block at the moment… a thousand curses upon the head of whatever demon thought that manner of plague up!

Ahem, now that I am done making an idiot out of myself, I want to extend my thanks to all of you who have read this story. To those of you who have reviewed, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, as well. For those of you who have not, I hope that the time you took to read this story so far has proven to be worth your while.

And props to the person who did their homework on the meaning of the ARC acronym. 

Just a bit of a warning here, expect some radically AU stuff to again crop up in this chapter.

Lawyers: I own nothing, so you cannot sue! (Heaven help me I get tired of having to say that…)

That red tape blown out of the water, I hope you enjoy chapter six.

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Darkest Secrets

It was early morning in Knothole, and the air hung low over the guerilla village, and the birds and insects were strangely silent, as if even nature itself was aware of the passing of the great hero that had fallen weeks prior.

Most were still asleep in their beds, save for those who were on watch, and a certain heir to the throne.

Sally stumbled back to her bed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she came out of the bathroom, having once again woken up with the need to relieve her stomach of its contents.

She then sat down on her bed, and buried her head in her hands, feeling the crushing sorrow welling up in her soul once more. Tears welling up in her eyes once again, she look up to her dresser, and let her eyes settle upon one her most precious possessions: a hologram projector. She reached up and turned it on, staring at the picture that popped up for what seemed like hours.

It was a group shot of all of them, smiling for the camera. Antoine and Bunnie were next to each other, the former standing at attention with his best guard uniform on himself, while his girlfriend had her biological arm wrapped around his waste, her crooked smile upon her face. Rotor was present as well, in the back of the group, the grease stains on his face evidence of the fact that he had been working up until right before the picture had been taken.

Dulcy stood out the most, of course, as it was rather easy to spot the dragon amongst the rest of them. Her fangs were bared in a reptilian grin, and she had her wings spread wide while her mane was standing up on end.

And there in the center were herself, Tails, and Sonic, his arm around her shoulder and that glow that he always seemed to have in his emerald eyes shinning for all the world to see. Tails was in-between the two of them, the cutest little grin upon his muzzle.

They had been so happy then, a family that had seemed inseparable. She had thought that they would always be that way, that they would one day triumph over Robotnik, cast him down and rebuild their civilization better than it had ever been before. They would settle down, finally convince her father that Sonic was the right person for her, and start a family.

That was how she had always dreamed that it would be.

Unfortunately, reality was a harsh mistress.

Why? She wondered to herself as she looked skyward, perhaps seeking a revelation from the heavens, why did it have to be him?

She let the tears come then, sobbing and weeping, until at last her exhaustion overcame her and oblivion took her in its embrace.

* * *

With a scream, she awoke, panting and her eyes staring blankly ahead, pupils dilated but seeing nothing.

It had been a nightmare. That much she had known, but she could not remember much of it. There had been fire, people screaming, death had hung heavy in the air, and from the crackling inferno, a strange being had come, like a demon from the hells. She couldn't remember what it had looked like, only that any who challenged it were slain. One by one, she had watched, helpless, as her friends had hurled themselves at it, only to die in agony. Then it had come for her.

All had gone dark after that, and then she had awoken.

"You okay, Sally girl?" came a voice from off to her side.

She looked over to find none other than Bunnie standing next to her bedside. The cybernetic Mobian reached out, taking her friend's hand in her own. It wasn't the first time that her best friend had come over to check up on her, and it was something for which she was grateful.

"Were you dreaming about him again?" she asked.

The princess remained silent, not sure how to answer that question, and the rabbit's ears drooped as she assumed the silence meant yes. She too, had felt his loss keenly, though certainly not as much as her childhood friend had.

"Come on, Sally," Bunnie said quietly, helping her friend to rise, "Lupe and one of her friends have showed up, and judging from the way they look, they ain't bringing good news."

The ground squirrel remained silent, but went over and grabbed her vest, before following her friend outside.

* * *

Sure enough, Lupe and her comrade were in the command hut, both of them looking tired, worn, and carrying some nasty scrapes and bruises. Naturally, seeing them like that didn't make her feel good about the situation at all, but whatever had happened to them, they were still alive, and that was some good news at least. A quick glance around the room revealed that most everyone was here, and that they had been waiting on her.

"Lupe, good to see you," the princess said, extending her hand and shaking it before turning to the other, and realizing that it was Reynard. She hadn't recognized him at first, with him being so dirt caked. "What happened to you guys?"

"We were attacked," the wolf leader replied, shaking her head, unable to bring herself to say anything more than that.

"Is the rest of the pack okay?" Bunnie asked, much concern present in her voice.

Lupe lowered her sight to the ground, and it was Reynard who answered after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"There is no 'rest of the pack' anymore," he growled, baring his teeth.

"Roboticizied?" Elias inquired, a frown on his face.

"No," Lupe responded in a quiet voice, "they were killed."

"Butchered would be closer to the word I would choose to use," Reynard said, icy venom in his tone.

"I wouldn't think that Swat Bots would know how to butcher people," Geoffrey remarked offhandedly, earning him a glare from the princess.

"That would be because it was not Swat Bots that slew our comrades," Lupe said in a somber tone, before looking back up at Sally. "Robotnik unleashed something upon us, something we had never seen before and we did not know how to deal with it."

"Was it Mecha?" Sally inquired, realizing that they had never battled the android before.

"No," Reynard responded with a shake of his head, "it was not Robotnik's perversion of Sonic that attacked us, it was something else. This thing hunted us in our own tunnels, spilled our blood in our own sacred catacombs. It was one with the shadows, and it was as if the darkness itself obeyed its commands…" he trailed off, and Sally saw something in his eyes she never thought that she would see in one of their kind: fear. "Lupe and I only managed to escape because we got to the speeder you loaned us."

"Did you at least get a look at what this thing was?" Sally asked, placing a comforting hand upon the wolf's shoulder.

"As Reynard told you, it was one with the shadows," Lupe responded, before sighing. "We got but a single glance at the thing as it cut down the twins, and even then we couldn't see much. If I didn't know any better, I would swear that Robotnik had made a pact with Chaos, and loosed a demon upon us."

"Robotnik didn't make a pact with Chaos," came a voice, and all whirled to see Uncle Chuck standing in the doorway, "but he did indeed loose a demon upon you…"

Startled by both his sudden appearance and the cryptic tone that he used, no one thought to acknowledge Sir Charles by name his name. Fortunately, that was not necessary for him to continue.

"You'll pardon my lack of manners, but I've been trying to get here for a few days," he said in a somewhat terse manner, walking over to where a hologram projector was, and sliding in a data disk that he had. "Tell me, Lupe, does this look familiar to you?" he asked, as he entered some commands on the control board.

A moment later, an image appeared upon the table. It appeared to be a security camera hologram. It showed a Mobian trying to level his rifle and something else that Sally could never have recalled seeing in all her years of leading assaults into Robotropolis. The strange thing was almost upon the resistance soldier, and she could see that it grasped in its hands a bizarre weapon, which almost reminded her of a sword, but she'd never seen a blade that had glowed like that before.

"That is the devil that hunted us," Reynard said with an affirmative nod of his head, his ears instinctively going flat at as he bared his teeth and growled.

"I thought you said you didn't get a good look at the thing?" Elias stated as he too stared at the strange… warrior.

"We did not," the wolf snarled, his mind recalling the scenes of his friends and family as they were dying, being cut down by that monstrosity, "but I would recognize that weapon anywhere."

"What the hoo-ha is that thing anyway?" Bunnie asked, scratching her head as she walked around the holo projector.

It was then that the king, who up until now had remained silent, decided to enter the conversation.

"Dear Goddess," he breathed as he drew near, before turning and giving Uncle Chuck a look that was one part hopeful pleading, the other, something that Sally couldn't put her finger on at the moment. "Charles, please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"I'm afraid it is, your majesty," the roboticized hedgehog said with a nod, "it's an ARC trooper, though not one of the 'originals'."

"How can you be so sure?" Maximilian inquired, looking at the old man intensely. "We never found out what happened to the…"

"It moves too slowly to be one of the prototypes," he informed his king, shaking his head in a sober manner.

There was a pause after that, and all eyes were suddenly upon the monarch and the scientist. Uncle Chuck looked about, and sighed, steeling himself for what was to come, for the things that he was about to have to say, and his own, dark role in these events.

"This footage was shot by a security camera in one of Robotnik's transport production facilities. I'm not sure whose group he was a part of," he said, gesturing to the Freedom Fighter on screen, "but he and the rest of his squad were completely wiped out by this thing as far as I know," he said, and then pressed the play button.

The soldier screamed as he was cut in half, and then they all watched the killer fade from view, becoming nothing more than a blur. After that, Uncle Chuck switched to another camera, and they witnessed the thing take out another pair of Freedom Fighters. Finally, they saw what happened on the catwalk over the melting vats. After that the footage came to an end, and the images faded into nothingness.

"They managed to get outside the factory, but from what I understand that was about as far as they got," the roboticized hedgehog stated.

The Freedom Fighters were speechless for the most part, having never seen such brutality in action before, finally, Sally found her voice.

"What kind of robot is it?" she asked, looking over to the mechanized hedgehog.

"It's not a robot at all," Uncle Chuck said, now aware of all the gazes that were upon him, "it's an Advanced Reconnaissance Commando, or an ARC for short."

"Looks to me like it was doing a heck of a lot more than reconnaissance!" Bunnie exclaimed, giving the old man a look of disbelief.

"That was just their name, if they had been implemented these things would have been doing just about anything you could think of. Recon, sabotage, siege busting, covert assassination, you name it," he said, shaking his head sadly.

"Sounds like Robotnik's made a nasty little problem for us," Elias muttered, pale underneath his fur, the screams of the dying still fresh on his ears.

"Robotnik didn't make it," Uncle Chuck said, before correcting himself. "Well, he did make this one, but the idea wasn't his… it was mine."

"Charles!" the king said, but a glare the likes of which he had never seen come from the hedgehog before caused him to be silent.

"They have the right to know the truth, Max," the old scientist retorted, a growl in his voice. "And they need to know what it is that they're up against."

With that, he typed in a few more commands on the keyboard, and the image faded, being replaced by one of himself and a few others when he was considerably younger, and still flesh and blood. Sally could tell that it was a conference of some kind, as her father, Julian, and a few others, who looked like high ranking military officers, were present.

"I think this should tell you a lot of what you need to know," Uncle Chuck stated, before pressing the play button.

"Alright, let's get down to business," Julian said, shifting slightly in his seat as the footage came to life. "What was this project you wished to speak to us about, Charles?"

"It's something that my colleagues and I have been fiddling around with for a while now, but we need official backing to go through with it," he said, clearly very nervous.

"What is the nature of this project?" King Acorn asked, leaning forward in his seat and placing his left hand upon his chin.

"As you all well know, the war with the Overlanders is not going very well, our infantry and armor are getting bogged down having to deal with all the strongholds that they've set up in the central regions of the conflict, to say nothing of the Mandalorians tearing into our flanks like the beasts that they are. It will take some time, but my fellows and I believe we have come up with a way to deal with both problems." He paused for a moment, apparently to gather his thoughts.

"Go on," the king said, nodding to him.

"We call it the ARC project," Sir Charles said, "short for Advanced Recon Commando. It centers on the advances made in micro-robotics of late."

"You mean these experimental neural laces that have been developed?" Julian inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," the hedgehog said with a nod, "it has been theorized that such laces, inserted into a soldier, would transform him into an infantry powerhouse the likes of which has never been seen before. We propose to take that a step further with the ARC project."

"How so?" the large human replied.

"Weeeeelllll," the scientist responded, "we believe that by combining the neural lace and various other cybernetics with gene therapy, we could create the ultimate super soldier, a weapon of such power that a handful of them, properly deployed, could alter the course of the war by themselves."

"Question." came a voice from one of the officers, laced with a slight French accent.

"Yes, General D'Coolette?" the hedgehog said, causing Antoine's eyes to bulge as he realized that his father was present.

"Our gene therapy experiments have thus far proved highly unsuccessful in lab animals, at least from the reports that I have read. How are you proposing that we get around this?" the general inquired with a frown.

"Our experiments with laboratory animals have always been after they were already born, and their bodies couldn't handle the alterations. However, we have theorized that if we were to perform the therapy on a cluster of genes that had not yet had time enough to fully develop, such as a zygote, the experiment would be successful, creating a Mobian with speed, strength and reflexes far beyond normal."

"Basically, you are talking about creating a soldier in a test tube and then using invetrofertilization or something of that nature to create these ARCs?" the coyote asked, appearing to be quite flabbergasted. "Not only does that reek of a moral vacuum, but such soldiers would take twenty years to put into service, and I do not think this war will last that long."

"Not necessarily, general," Charles replied with a shake of his head. "We've kept this quiet, but our scientists have also recently discovered a means by which to genetically accelerate the growth process of a Mobian by as much as five times the normal rate." He paused, and stared around at all present. "Initially, we would create a pair of prototypes that were not given this accelerated growth, and if all went well, we'd move on to mass production."

"Prototypes, mass production?" General D'Coolette all but roared. "By all that is holy, Sir Charles, you are talking about people, not machines!" he then looked over to the King. "My lord, I must protest this…" he began, but Maximilian held up a hand for his silence.

"Continue, Sir Charles," he said.

For some time, the scientist continued with his presentation, showing charts of theoretical data, answering questions, and generally doing his best to try and convince his superiors of how vital this project was. At last it came to an end, and for some moments, all remained silent. Charles nervously shuffled his feet back and forth, waiting for the king to speak. Finally, he did so.

"You have my permission to proceed, Sir Charles," he said, his tone measured and even, showing no traces of emotion, "create these prototypes, and after that, if the genetic engineering proves to be successful, you have the go ahead to bring this project of yours up to full speed."

"We'll begin immediately, sire," he said with a bow.

"I don't like this, it's wrong," General D'Coolette muttered, shaking his head but holding his peace other than that.

Before the recording could go any further, Uncle Chuck killed the feed, turning to face the rest of the group. For a few moments, he couldn't bear to look them in the eyes, knowing what he was about to have to tell them, and his own role in how things turned out. Suddenly, he wondered just how much evil he had unleashed when he had started that accursed project, as he thought about what had been done, and how many might yet die to right the wrongs of the past. After all, he knew what they were up against, more so than anyone else ever would.

"We started the ARC project, and everything went as planned for the first few months," he said as he finally looked back up at everyone else. "However, by the time the second year had passed, our intelligence units managed to crack the primary Overlander communication code, and with that knowledge in our hands, we were able to score a few decisive victories that drove them out of our territories. Shortly thereafter, General D'Coolette also located the main body of the Mandalorian army and subsequently wiped them out. As soon as that happened, the general began to pressure the king about what we were doing."

"And I gave into his requests," the monarch stated, his tail twitching back and forth in obvious agitation. "The ARC project was shut down approximately twenty six months after it was started."

"Yes," Uncle Chuck said, nodding his head, "but by the time that had happened, the 'prototypes' had already been created. Barring a couple of cosmetic differences, they were genetically identical, and while they were quite young, we could already tell that they definitely had lived up to our hopes."

"What was becoming of them?" Antoine asked, cocking his head slightly to one side.

"The older of the two, Murai, whom we code named 'Shadow,' was adopted by one of my colleagues, Dr. Maria," the roboticized hedgehog said. "However, I've searched Robotnik's records as much as I can, and I've found nothing about his roboticization or capture, and I believe that he was killed during the coup," he said, his voice quiet, and his eyes closed. "The other one… he was killed recently…"

"What do you mean?" Lupe asked, knowing that there was something strange going on.

However, the old scientist said nothing, and merely looked down to the floor once more, his shoulders suddenly beginning to heave in dry sobs. Most of the people present looked at each other in stunned silence, not knowing what to make of this sudden display of emotions, and within their minds, theories flew back and forth as they struggled to think of what might have caused the abrupt change in the old man.

However, Sally's mind was whirring along a slightly different track. Her analytical brain was putting together the puzzle, and it was reaching a conclusion that caused fury and anger like she had never know before to burn within her soul. Elias saw it, as did Bunnie, saw her blue eyes suddenly begin to glow like stars, but the fires within them were those of a cold, blood freezing rage. Her hands clinched into fists and she visibly shook, as she turned that gaze first to her father, who actually blanched and retreated a step or two as he tried to fathom the raw power of the young woman who looked at him, held him locked with that gaze like a serpent rendering its prey helpless with a glance. After a moment, she released her father, and turned once more to Sir Charles, who had finally looked up from the floor.

Unlike the King, he did not quaver when those azure eyes fell upon him. He knew what he had done, and that nothing could change it.

"Enhanced speed, reflexes, and strength… the second 'prototype' was Sonic wasn't it?" the princess growled after what seemed to be ages.

"Yes, it was," Uncle Chuck said, his face twisted into a mask of pain and a noticeable crack to his voice.

She said nothing more, but simply pivoted, and stormed out the door. With the exception of the King and Sir Charles, the people within the command hut were too riveted by what they had just heard to even pay Sally much mind. As it was, the old scientist stood where he was, his shoulders still heaving as he was wracked with waves of grief, while the monarch paused for a moment, before heading off after his daughter.

"Sally!" Maximilian called after her, noticing that she was heading for the Ring Pool, while the rest of Knothole made haste to get out of her way.

Finally, the aging king caught up to his daughter, who kept her back defiantly to him. Had he known her a little better, the good monarch might have realized that confront her now, about such a potentially explosive subject, would not have been good for his health. As it was though, with the headstrong stubbornness which could be legendary among their family, he pressed the issue.

"Sally…" he began, before she cut him off, whirling around and turning that powerful gaze upon him once more.

"So the truth finally comes out," she said, her voice holding what most might interpret to be a calm tone, but those who knew her well would be able to detect the near murderous rage that was simmering just underneath. "I think I finally understand why you hated him so much, father. Was it because he reminded you of what you'd just about done in the past? That you had nearly condemned the Goddess only knows how many people to a short lived life where their only purpose would have been to kill others? That you would have robbed these ARC soldiers of a childhood, of any hope of a future, or for that matter, even a choice in their own destiny?"

"Now see…" he tried to say once more, only to find himself once more overpowered by his daughter's venomous words.

"Or was it just that you didn't like having a 'killing machine' like him near me and Elias or near yourself?" she snarled, her whole body visibly shaking as she vented her rage upon her father. "Were you afraid that something might happen, that some genetic trigger that might have been planted in him could have gone off, and he would have suddenly started slaughtering us all?"

"Sally!" the King barked. "Sonic was a…"

"He was a person, father," she shot back, "he had feelings, passions, a soul like you and me! Does the fact that he was created as opposed to born naturally make him any less of a being? Is that why you always looked down on him? Because you thought he was beneath you just because he was supposed to be a weapon?" she stared long and hard at her father, making certain that she could drive the point home. "That's what you were talking about, father, weapons, not warriors, _weapons_!" she paused, her breath coming in deep pants.

"Yes!" the King said, finally managing to get a word in. "I authorized Charles to create a group of soldiers powerful enough to destroy the Overlanders! We were at war, a war that we were losing, and if the sacrifice of a few souls were required to achieve victory for my people, then that was a price I was willing to pay!" He paused for a moment, rubbing his temples in a gentle manner. "Besides, we never went through with it anyway."

"You did!" His daughter shot back, her voice a venomous hiss. "You created Sonic and this 'Shadow.' Then, you regarded Sonic as if he was something less than a Mobian just because he was different, despite the fact that he'd been fighting for your cause for so long! You treated him like dirt because of what he was, because of a choice that was never his to make!" she could feel a tear forming in her eye now, but she was determined not to break down, not here, not now. "He was no different than you and me, father. He had hopes, fears, and he was the man that I loved!"

"Sally, you cannot possibly begin to understand what love is about," He told her once again, and then watched as the rage in his daughter's eyes seemed to grow even more.

"I know more than you think, father!" she practically roared, heedless of the others, who had come out of the command hut and now watched the confrontation. "I'm not a child, no matter how much you might think I am! While you were locked away in the Void, I learned how to lead people into Robotropolis and get them back out in one piece. I learned how to command troops on the fly, because if we screwed up, we'd wind up dead or worse! I am an adult, father, and believe it or not, I can make my own choices in life!"

Elias, watching the confrontation with mixed emotions, thought that if his father's eyes had bulged anymore, that they would have fallen clean out of his head. In a way, he was proud that his sister had finally stood up to their old man. On the other hand, he was saddened by the fact that it took something this dramatic to finally bring it about. In truth, he was having quite a bit of trouble trying to come to grips with what they'd just been told. That the Mobian that they'd fought alongside of and who'd been one of their greatest warriors was brought into existence by something so seemingly depraved that it appeared that only Chaos himself could have thought it up.

In some way, he supposed, it made the hedgehog's death all the more tragic.

Finally, the standoff between father and daughter was ended by Uncle Chuck stepping forward. Instantly, Sally's gaze shifted to him. As before, though, he did not wither under it like most doubtlessly would have had they been in his shoes.

"What's in the past is done," he said, and the prince couldn't help but notice the pain in his voice. "Right now, more lives are at stake, and if we don't act now, many more people are going to die before this is all over with."

* * *

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Okay, hope you all found that to your liking, and that you are not going to stone me for the rather unorthodox plot twist that I just put into things. However, should you wish to let fly at me, I do have body armor and a ballistics shield, so feel free to do so.

That said, any comments are very much appreciated, be they advice and constructive criticisms, ideas or things you would like to see happen, or even a flame.

Thank you all for your time, and I hope you have a great week.


	7. Nature of the Enemy

Hello again, everybody, and I hope that you have had a great week. I'm updating this one a little early because I think my folks are dropping hints that we might be going somewhere soon, and I know a lot of you have been waiting for this chapter.

Many thanks to Farr2rich, who is beta reading for me, and whose fully proofread version will be posted either as soon as I get it, or when I get back, if my suspicions are correct.

Many thanks to everyone who has read this story as well. For those of you who have reviewed, I am humbled by your generosity and the positive input that you have given me. (bows) For those of you who have not, I hope that this tale has proven to be worthy of your time, and I hope you will continue to return to read more in the future.

Lawyers- I don't own a single thing except for the characters and concepts that my shattered and sanity deprived mind has given me.

That said, here's chapter seven.

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Nature of the Enemy

They were back in the command hut now, Sally having calmed somewhat from her outburst. However, she still gave her father and Sir Charles glares that would have sent them the grave if such a thing had been possible. Uncle Chuck could feel her gaze burning its way through the metal plates of his back, and he took the 'pain' stoically, knowing that her anger was more than justified, as he knew that she and his nephew had been close to one another. As for the others, he knew that the shock probably was too much for them right now, and that the righteous fury would come later.

His hands flew over the keyboard as he drew up the files he had been able to access.

"I wasn't able to unlock everything," he said, his tone once more matter of fact, "Robotnik's got quite a few of the files locked down with a level seven security protocol."

Several eyes widened upon hearing that. A level seven was as high as security got, and it was theoretically uncrackable, due to the fact that its basis was neither numbers nor letters, but a specific genetic code. Obviously, there was something in there that Robotnik didn't want anyone to find out about, and while they were curious about it, they weren't about to let that curiosity interfere with the rest of this strange briefing.

"As you could probably deduce from the holo vid that I showed you," Sir Charles said, "this ARC trooper, which Robotnik has codenamed 'Norrack,' is perhaps the single most dangerous thing that he's ever created."

"Norrack, huh?" Geoffrey stated, shaking his head. "Little heavy on the melodrama, ey, mate?"

"Perhaps," Uncle Chuck conceded, his tone somewhat weary, "but from what I have been able to access, and what you have seen, this thing certainly lives up to its name." he paused, and pressed in a few more commands, and then an image of the ARC trooper appeared.

The picture was grid lined like a blueprint, and slowly began to rotate as the roboticized hedgehog prepared to begin what would doubtlessly be a long explanation of what they were fighting.

"What is the nature of the neural lace that you were talking about?" Lupe suddenly inquired, crossing her arms.

"It was actually the precursor to the roboticizer project, and in a nutshell, it's a series of micro robotic circuits that run throughout his body." Sir Charles stated, and his hands flew over the keyboard, causing what almost looked like a map of a nervous system to emerge from the hologram. "These work in unison with the neural impulses of his brain, and also supplement the natural strength of his muscles, while giving him reflexes that are more than three times faster than that of a normal Mobian." He paused for a second, letting the group digest that information, before continuing with his briefing. "The lace culminates in the brain, forming a direct attachment to the cerebrum, the cerebellum, and the brain stem," he said, pointing to those regions. "This also allows for another deadly feature: flash training."

He looked about, noting the strange looks that he got from the others, and then he decided that it would perhaps be best if he clarified what he meant.

"It allows for information to be directly downloaded into his brain," he said, his eyes having a faraway look to them as he thought about what they had nearly done. "It was how we had planned to prepare the ARC troopers, given that they would have so little time for traditional training with their accelerated growth." He paused again for a brief moment, craning his head to one side and tapping on the back of it. "There is an area on the back of the left skull that has been bored into, this is where the computer jack is inserted. From there, an ARC would have, over the course of about fifty six hours or so, been taught everything that he needed to know out in the field, that way we would have been able to spend the rest of the time focusing on actual 'dry runs' before they were deployed."

"In a nutshell, this guy knows every just about single Mobian combat manual back to front?" Elias asked.

"It's possible," Sir Charles said, nodding gravely. "But it's far more likely that he would have only the bare bones of the normal infantry training. Most of the operations that ARCs would have been called upon to do run more along the line of special operations, covert missions rather than just running around a field of battle gunning down anything that moved. Though, I can assure you they could have done that rather effectively."

"No wonder the devil was able to hunt us so successfully," Lupe growled, a deadly rage in her voice. "It would also explain how it was able to so easily bypass our defenses, it probably knew what to look for."

"That's most likely true," Uncle Chuck said, "but save your anger for Robotnik, don't waste it on Norrack. He probably didn't have much choice in the matter."

"What do you mean?" Bunnie asked, cocking an eye at the mechanized hedgehog.

"The neural lace also houses a very special chip," he replied, inwardly cursing himself and the work he did those years ago. "This chip was something that my colleagues and I developed during the ARC project, and its purpose is to regulate brain signals and cognitive thinking," he informed them, looking around at them all, letting what he was trying to say sink in.

"Are you saying," Sally began, her voice once again having a dangerous edge to it, "that it's basically keeping him under control."

"Yes," Sir Charles said in a bitter tone. "Once we realized just how successful that the genetic engineering had been, we understood that the soldiers that we were creating would be far deadlier than we had ever imagined, and our superiors decided that a failsafe was needed." He stopped once again, gathering his thoughts before proceeding. "The chip allows Norrack free will to a degree, as he is allowed to carry out his orders in any way that he sees fit and modify them on the fly if he needs to. However, like a roboticized person, he is incapable of disobeying an order."

Lupe and Reynard exchanged a glance with each other, their eyes wide upon hearing this revelation. It was strange, but in that moment, they felt the rage directed towards Norrack suddenly vanish, as they realized exactly what he was: a slave, just like every other poor soul that Robotnik had captured. Just as Charles recommended, that rage returned moments later, this time directed towards the obese overlord who had loosed the killing machine upon them.

"Would it be possible for him to fight it, like you did?" Reynard asked after a few moments, wondering if they might be able to turn the tide upon the despot.

"Possible, but unlikely," Uncle Chuck said, shaking his head. "The removal of free will was a side effect of the roboticization process, something unintended. This chip was deliberately designed for the purpose of keeping the ARCs in line, as command didn't want to run the risk of these super soldiers going maverick. It would take willpower like nothing I've ever seen before to shatter that chip's control over him. And that's not all," he continued, "if Robotnik's followed the complete procedure, which I have no reason to doubt that he has, then Norrack has had a couple of other deadly enhancements."

"Like what?" Bunnie asked, looking at him intently.

"The project called for two other augmentations in addition to the neural lace," Sir Charles said, looking around once more. "First, the ARCs skeletal systems were to be laced with ferrosteel to make it harder for a fall or melee attack to break something and compromise their mission."

"As in they were going to cut them open and fuse it to their skeletal systems?" Rotor replied, his tone rather incredulous. "How does someone live through that?"

"The surgery is done at the same time as the neural lace insertion, and it's done in small increments, one region of the body at a time," Sir Charles answered. "And there is a large amount of bacta involved in the process as well. Secondly, they were to undergo surgery that would increase blood flow to the eyes, specifically, to the cones of the retina."

"What does that do?" Elias inquired, somewhat confused.

"They've got built in night vision," Chuck explained. "As a matter of fact, while we never tested it, there were worries that their eyesight might be too sensitive to rapid light changes, which is one reason why we spent so much money on that blast visor for the helmet. We didn't want the ARC to run the risk of being blinded for an extended period in the event of someone dropping a flash bang."

"Goddess above," Rotor whispered in a hushed tone, his mind trying to fathom how one might bring down a living weapon such as this, and shuddering slightly at the thought of hundreds of these things running around a war zone.

"What about his weapons?" Sally asked abruptly, remembering the security footage that they had watched.

"He has four primary weapons," Uncle Chuck said, pressing another button, causing the image to reset. "One of them is a long range, another is a short range, and he has two for melee." He focused on the keyboard for a second, typing in another command, which caused something to come off of the image's back.

The long ranged weapon is a PCT-60 shoulder mounted plasma caster, a weapon which was specifically designed for the ARC project." He continued. "We wanted a hands free blaster that could be used in almost any given situation, considering the hazards that the ARCs would be facing." He typed a few more commands in, and detailed schematics of the weapon popped up, showing things like the power supply needed, estimated range capacity, and stopping power.

What really had everyone confused though was that it had three such readings, and they once more looked to Uncle Chuck for guidance.

"The weapon has three possible settings, for different scenarios and engagements, He explained. "The first one is for mid ranged combat, no more than a hundred feet between him and an opponent. This mode operates like a submachine gun, combining a high rate of fire with stopping power similar to that of the Decee series of weapons. But, like I said, the rate of fire makes it inaccurate beyond a hundred or so feet, meaning he'll probably use this mode while trying to close the distance between a target and himself." he paused for a moment, and pointed to the second set of readings. "The second mode is for long range combat, and operates like an assault rifle, firing three shot bursts, with about the same power as the first mode. This is accurate up to seven hundred feet, and is most likely what he'll use to engage an adversary at range with."

"What's the final mode used for, then?" Rotor asked, a part of him fascinated by this machinery, despite its purpose.

"The third and final mode is something used against a heavy entrenched or armored opponents," Uncle Chuck said, "it charges the caster up, which results in a highly concentrated blast of plasma that explodes outward upon impact, hitting anything within about thirty feet. However," he said, raising a finger, "the use of this 'overcharge' mode depletes the caster's power pack rapidly, so he probably won't use it very often.

"The other ranged weapon, as you saw, is a wrist mounted flamethrower," Uncle Chuck said, and the others nodded, all too clearly recalling the image of the burning soldier flailing about, "which I believe has a maximum range of about fifty feet, unless Julian's gone and fiddled with it since the time of its development."

"What about his melee weapons?" Sally asked, finally reentering the conversation as she recalled how the ARC seemed to favor those.

"The secondary one is the battle talons you can see mounted on the left wrist," Sir Charles said, gesturing to them. "And I think I should tell you that they are vibro weapons, though they can function like normal blades if he should extend them without switching them on."

"Vibro?" the princess asked, giving him a strange look.

"The unit that the claws are mounted in has its own small power supply, which causes the blades to oscillate back and forth at hypersonic frequency when it's turned on." He explained. "This allows them to 'buzz saw' their way through most materials with incredible efficiency. We also discovered later that the frequency creates a strange energy field that causes severe neural hemorrhaging when used upon an organic target, which was one of the reasons these kinds of weapons were never put into production later."

"I don't see a trigger for any of those weapons," Geoffrey said, scratching his chin, "how does he use them, then?"

In response, the old scientist tapped his index finger to his head.

"The caster, flamethrower, and claws are linked directly into the armor, which in turn has several nodes that connect to the neural lace via the spinal cord," He explained, pausing and looking around to see if they could figure out where this was heading.

"You mean that he turns on those doohickeys by thinking about it?" Bunnie stated, very surprised at such a notion.

"Yes, rather efficient, isn't it?" the roboticized hedgehog said with a bitter laugh. "No more having to think about pulling the trigger, and having to wait for the signal to reach your fingers and things like that. For that purpose, the plasma caster has a targeting mechanism that attached to the helmet, and I believe that Robotnik has added a backup aiming device, though I haven't figured out just where yet."

There was a moment of ominous silence, as they realized just how fast one would have to be on the draw to get a shot off at this thing.

"What about his sword?" Antoine inquired, walking forward so that he could get a better look.

"Ahh, that little monstrosity…" Charles replied darkly, shaking his head once again. "That's another weapon born from this project." He paused for a moment, trying to think about how he might explain this last instrument. "Are any of you here familiar with kaiburr crystals?" he inquired, getting an affirmative nod from Rotor.

Rotor nodded. "They're rare crystalloid formations of unknown origins, and they give off energy somewhat similar to that power stone you've got in the ring generator," the walrus said, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his gut as he deduced where this conversation was heading.

"Correct," the old scientist said. "Just prior to the outbreak of the Great War, we discovered that if you passed currents of certain voltages through them, it would create a reaction. This reaction resulted in something that appears to defy the laws of physics: a stable, consistent beam of pure, unadulterated energy." He paused again, memories flashing through his mind.

"What's so defying about that?" St. John asked, cocking an eyebrow at the old man.

"Because everything we know about the universe indicates that such a beam shouldn't ever stop, but this does. Furthermore, the beam's shape and form would be different depending upon the current being passed through the crystal," he explained. "My colleagues and I… we were baffled, and despite our best efforts, we were never able to find out why. But there is one thing I can tell you: that sword is pretty much the final word in close combat, as I can only think of two things besides another energy blade that could stand up to it for any length of time. A weapon made of cortosis…"

"Well," Elias muttered, looking over to his sister, "at lest we have one of those."

"The second is a vibro blade or other such weapon, as we discovered during early tests that for reasons we have yet to fully understand, that the energy field they create is capable of blocking the saber for a few seconds," the mechanized hedgehog said with a frown.

"Is there any way we can destroy the hilt?" Sally asked, thinking that it was likely the weak point of the weapon.

"You could," Uncle Chuck conceded, "but it wouldn't help much in the long run."

"What do you mean?" the princess inquired, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because Robotnik's mining droids uncovered a small cavern of kaiburr crystals not too long after you destroyed his second Swat Bot factory," the old scientist said. "I overhead him all but jumping for joy when he got the report, but I didn't realize exactly what he had planned for the crystals until I saw him," he said, gesturing to Norrack's image.

There was a sobering silence as the group digested this information.

"There's also the small matter of the armor," King Maximilian said after a time, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, "I do seem to recall you saying that it was very efficient protective gear, Charles."

"You're right about that," the mechanized hedgehog responded in a weary tone. "The Aratech Mark VIII, a top of the line defensive suit of armor that was created in a joint project between us and the scientists leftover from the Zeo Matrix corp after the Overlanders reduced it to rubble." He fiddled with the control board again, and the image of the neural lace faded, leaving only the armor hovering in the hologram, display readings appearing next to it. "The armor's plates are made from an experimental metallic alloy known as zersium, which is both lighter in weight than a traditional ferrosteel combat suit, and is extremely resistant to blaster fire and physical blows. These plates cover the vital areas of the body, the chest, the thighs, head, and so forth. They rest on top of two layers of reinforced armor weave that have defensive properties similar in nature to the electro mesh under weave used in the Nagai series of armor, providing additional protection without sacrificing the ARC's ability to move. The result is that even the bare suit is nearly impervious to standard small arms fire, to say nothing of trying to hit a vital organ with all of that zersium in the way."

"That will be pretty tough to chew through," Rotor muttered with a frown, rubbing his chin and doubtlessly trying to think of a way to bypass that hefty bit of protective gear, before pausing in his musings. "What did you mean by 'bare suit?'" he asked.

Uncle Chuck remained silent for a moment, rotating the hologram around to where the group could see a strange bulge long the back of the armor.

"What you are looking at is a specially designed, small scale fusion generator," he said, staring around at them all. "This unit provides power to the armor, supporting the energy requirements for the HUD located in the helmet, the flamethrower, and a small backup charge for the vibro claws in the event that the primary power source is ever damaged. It also has two other features that make the Mark VIII perhaps the deadliest suit of armor ever created. The first, as you probably deduced from the video, is an active camouflage generator, which renders the ARC nearly invisible to the untrained eye."

"That's no problem," Geoffrey remarked with a shrug, "we'll just break out some thermal visors next time we're in the neighborhood."

"That won't work near as well as you think," the scientist replied, glaring at the skunk. "You recall that I mentioned there were two layers of armor-weave in the suit?" he inquired, waiting until the colonel had nodded. "That's because there's a layer of hydrostatic gel meshed between them. This gel provides cushioning in the event that the ARC finds itself in a freefall, and it also conveniently masks its thermal signature."

"So it is invisible to instruments as well as the eye?" Lupe muttered, rubbing her temples as she thought of what that meant.

"Not necessarily," Uncle Chuck replied, "the active camouflage bends light around the ARC, but that bending itself creates a distortion that can still be spotted if you know what to look for, especially if the ARC is on the move. It is the same with thermal scanners, you could still spot the variation in temperature if you knew what you were trying to find."

"What's the second protective device?" Elias asked.

"A personal shielding unit," the king said, getting looks from the others.

"Yes," Sir Charles said with an affirmative nod, "the generator produces a defensive energy field that extends outward around the whole suit, though it's virtually nonexistent around the palms and the bottom of the feet for obvious practical reasons. The shield is capable of stopping energy bolts and solid objects such as shrapnel and the like. Also, while the shield can be overloaded, it is capable of recharging itself."

"My stars," Bunnie exclaimed, her eyes bulging outward, "this thing's invincible!"

"No soldier is invincible, no warrior without his weaknesses," Antoine replied softly, though he was still loud enough for all to hear, and they turned to face him. "I would think that Sonic's death would have taught us that bitter lesson. This thing can be stopped, we are just to having to find out how."

"Precisely," Uncle Chuck concurred with a nod. "ARCs were designed to be tough and fearsome warriors, but they would have been as mortal as the rest of us. Norrack's got an Achilles Heel; we've just got to find it."

"That'll be easier said than done," Rotor muttered, the gears of his mind already whirring and trying to think about they might accomplish such a task. "What about an EMP?"

"I don't know," Sir Charles responded with a shrug. "We actually designed the neural lace to be hardened against electromagnetic pulse, not to mention that it is buried under living tissue, which provides additional, if only minor, shielding."

"You can harden an electronic device against EMP?" Elias said, surprised.

"Yes, and you can bet that Mecha has probably been given such an upgrade as well." the mechanized hedgehog said. "However, it's very costly and time consuming, and I don't think that the rank and file Swat Bots will ever been given such protection…" he paused then for a moment, before his crimson eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "And the Aratech's generator wasn't either, at least not completely!"

"Why not?" Sally inquired, cocking her head to one side slightly.

"Something about the fusion generator kept the circuits from being able to be fully hardened against a pulse," Uncle Chuck said with a grim smile on his face. "You won't be able to take it permanently offline with a blast like that, but I'd bet my servos that it would put his shields into a recharge cycle."

"So it would temporarily knock them out?" Rotor asked, getting a nod in response. "How long would they be down?"

"The shields would be gone for three seconds, give or take, and would take about ten seconds to fully recharge. I know that's not a lot of time, but it might give you something to work with," the mechanized scientist said, making a mental note of that tactic.

"What about toxic chemicals or fumes?" Reynard inquired. "Surely, Robotnik's got enough of those types of weapons just lying around."

"Those wouldn't work well, either." was the response he got. "We designed the helmet and the armor suit to be pressure sealed and hardened against adverse environmental conditions, and micro filters keep out everything from germs to chemicals to even radioactive particles. We knew that there was a possibility that the Overlanders would have such weapons on hand, and we didn't want to lose one of these troopers to them, so we designed a way around it."

"I think we should stick with trying to get his shields down and then punch through that armor, it's got to have a weak point somewhere," Sally said, thinking it best to stick with the one edge they might already have.

"But how are we supposed to get through that shell he's got on after we get his shields down?" Geoffrey asked, his tone a little incredulous. "For the Goddess' sake, princess, he's not just gonna stand there and let us shoot him!"

Sally remained silent for a moment, as she stared at the readouts of the armor. There had to be something, there always was. She flipped the situation around several times in her head while she was at it, looking at the problem from multiple angles, seeking the best possible solution. Cryobean acid came to mind, but with his reflexes as high as they were, it was likely that Norrack would be able to dodge the grenades. Blasters would work, but one would probably need enough firepower to take out a transport to rip through the armor, as once again, he wasn't likely going to hold still.

Then it hit her, in a moment of what one might almost call divine revelation, she thought of an answer.

"The armor…" she whispered. "Of course! His armor's too high tech for his own good!"

"What do you mean, Sally?" her brother said, looking at her funny.

"You said the armor-weave was like electro mesh, correct?" she asked Uncle Chuck, who nodded. "Then that's it. Electro mesh is good protection against blasters, but it won't stop a blade or a ballistic style weapon."

"Ballistics, as in slug throwers?" St. John said, his voice now rather condescending. "Princess, no one's used projectile weapons in almost three hundred years! The only one's I know of were destroyed when Robotnik's coup took out the Mobotropolis History of Warfare Museum."

"Not entirely true," Uncle Chuck said, holding up his hand as he remembered something. "Some projectile weapons were made during the Great War, as there are times when blasters and plasma weaponry are not practical."

"You mean the battle over the Xiror planes?" King Maximilian said, realizing where the hedgehog was going.

"Exactly!" Uncle Chuck said with a snap of his fingers. "Those grasslands acted like a bottleneck between our eastern provinces and the western Overlander territories. Naturally, both sides wanted to control that bottleneck, but the Xiror planes also been in a drought for a year or so when the conflict came. One blaster bolt to the right area, and the whole place would have been a giant bonfire. Of course, neither side wanted to wipe out their own forces, so we both fell back on more primitive means of warfare." He rubbed his metallic chin as he thought about it some more. "I recall seeing some of the plans for the weapons that we cooked up, and one nice thing about having a computer for a brain is that you don't forget much. Give me a little bit of time, and I think I could work up something."

"What about fleecing weapons?" Antoine asked. "My father made mention of those during that time, though I had forgotten about it until now."

Everyone gave the coyote a strange look, wondering what he might have meant.

"You mean flechette weapons?" Uncle Chuck ventured.

"Oi! That is what I was meaning to be saying," he responded with a vigorous nod.

"Antoine, you're a genius!" the roboticized hedgehog said, a smile on his face as he hurriedly explained to the others what the coyote had meant. "A flechette was a special kind of round that was developed towards the end of firearms use, and we'd initially planned on using them for the projectile weapons… that is, at least until we found out what they did."

"Which was?" Elias prompted.

"A flechette round is different from a normal projectile in that unlike a normal one, which keeps going until enough force is applied to stop it, these ones fragment when enough stress is placed upon the round, say, the abrupt slowing down as it penetrates a target." Chuck said, before realizing it might be best to dumb that last statement down just a bit. "Basically, it breaks apart at high speeds and scatters, shredding the internals of the person unfortunate to have been hit with it, hence why we never used them."

"A rather cruel weapon indeed," Rotor said, his face paling at the thought of how it might have been to die like that.

"But in this case, it might be just what we need," Sir Charles said, rubbing his chin, and then snapping his fingers again. "A shotgun! A shotgun with flechette rounds, fired at close range! That might bring him down if we aimed for either this region right here," he said, gesturing to a region right above the ARC's waist that ran from his hips to his back that was devoid of the zersium plating so as to allow the soldier to bend and flex better, "or this one." This time he pointed to two places just beneath the groin on the inside of the hips, which were also not as heavily armored.

"Okay, now we've got a battle plan, but how to we get our hands on a sizeable number of these things?" Geoffrey asked, apparently convinced that this plan was not going to work.

"Another advantage of being roboticized is that you don't need to sleep," Uncle Chuck stated, his voice grim but determined. "Rotor, I'm going to need your help, round up all the technicians you can think of and meet me at your workshop."

"Okay, shouldn't take me too long," the walrus answered, cracking his knuckles and heading out.

* * *

A day and a half had passed since Sir Charles arrival, and Bunnie was at her post at the southeastern border of the village, constantly scanning about with a night scope, ever alert in the event of a scout or rogue Swat Bot managing to get this close to them.

She lowered the night scope, and sighed, thinking of all that had happened recently, of the dark revelations that had come forth. She bowed her head, and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Sonic, had he ever guessed the truth of his origins? That he had been created to destroy and exterminate others? That his 'gifts' were nothing more than a group of scientists' attempts to create the ultimate biological killing machine? She couldn't repress a shudder at the thought of what might have come to past had history taken a different turning, if something had come up that would have required King Acorn to restart the ARC project. She imagined the hedgehog's cheerful face hidden behind the emotionless helmet that Norrack wore, the sense of livelihood and exuberance smothered under the control of the neural chip that would regulate his thoughts. And she thought of his speed, his gift that had saved countless lives over the years, turned around and used for the purpose of slaying others.

It was enough to make the rabbit want to wretch.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling coming from below, from somewhere out in the forest. In a flash, her night scope was back up, and she was scanning about, seeking the cause of the disturbance.

She found it a few seconds later, as the bushes and smaller trees parted to show a pair of Mobians, one an adult cougar and the other a young hedgehog, stumbling towards her lookout post. She zoomed in, and noticed the cougar's limping gait, and the many wounds that covered him. She gasped, and quickly descended the ladder, before rushing out towards where he was.

As she approached them, calling out, they whipped their heads over towards her, their movements quick and jerky, like a prey animal that had been spooked. The rabbit cocked an eyebrow in confusion, before noticing older Mobian's wounds once again. Some were typical of plasma burns, but a few were unlike anything she had ever scene before. The way they ran across his armor, his body and through his flesh, it looked as if someone had taken a sword or something to him, but they were all cauterized, as if the instrument involved had been white hot.

"Y'all okay?" she asked, before mentally slapping herself as she realized the other Mobian, probably another Freedom Fighter, was definitely _not_ okay, to say nothing of the young girl that was with him.

As he looked into her eyes, Bunnie gasped. She recognized this soldier. He had been the leader of the squad that Norrack had ripped apart in that factory.

"He's here, oh Goddess, he's here somewhere," the cougar said, his large eyes dilated and flying around, scanning everywhere for his apparent tormentor, while the young child, whose quills and fur were a strange pink color, clung to his leg, shivering visibly in fear.

Bunnie was about to ask what he meant when he looked back at her, and his eyes widened even further if that was possible. She noticed that his gaze was centered upon her chest, and she looked down. Over her heart, glowing like fireflies in the darkness was a trio of red dots. Slowly, with fear starting to gnaw at her as she realized the true nature of the cougar's wounds, she looked upwards, seeking the source of the targeting lasers.

At first, she saw nothing, but then she noticed that some of the leaves on one of the great oaks seemed strange, almost as if they were out of place, and she realized she was staring right at Norrack. The ARC trooper that Sir Charles had warned them about was upon their very doorstep.

She knew that the plasma caster on his shoulder was aimed right at her heart, and she tensed up, wondering what her options were. She could try to dive out of the way, but could she move faster than the ARC could think? Would he anticipate her movement, and her attempt to save her life just wind up resulting in her leaping straight into the plasma bolts? And even then, if she managed to dodge, would she live long enough to get return fire up in the air, even if for no other purpose than to warn the rest of Knothole.

As that thought crossed her mind, she felt her blood run cold. Knothole… the nearly invisible soldier must have known that its wounded quarry would flee somewhere, to a place of safety, and had followed them. Now he knew where they were, and their greatest, and truly only, strategic defense was now gone.

Abruptly, the sound of blaster fire split the night air, and the cybernetic Mobian instinctively threw herself to one side, while wondering when she would feel the pain of the shots that would end her life. To her amazement, the pain was not forthcoming, and as she came out of her roll, she looked around, and saw the blur again, this time on the ground and moving away from her at considerable speed. The sharp cracking of plasma bolts sounded again, and bits of crimson energy sailed after the fleeing ARC. However, it faded into the darkness after that, for which the rabbit was quite grateful.

Somewhat confused about the unexpected assistance, she turned to see who it was, and for the second time that night, stopped cold.

Past where the cougar and the hedgehog girl were was an armored figured emerging from the shadows, stepping into a patch of moonlight. What relief she might have felt at the departure of Norrack was instantly replaced with icy dread as she stared at the newcomer. The way the figure carried itself led her to believe that the person underneath the suit was a male, though he was a couple inches shorter than the average. The armor that he wore was covered in dirt and mud, but she could tell that the original color was a combination of black and crimson. Hanging from the waist was a skirt like piece of cloth that went down to his ankles and was as dirty as the rest of the equipment. Her gaze, however, was mostly directed upward, to the helmet that the soldier wore. It had also seen better days, but she could make out several things about it. First, its primary color was obsidian like the rest of the gear. However, framing the T shaped visor was an insignia that was the color of freshly spilt blood: the tusked visage of a mythosaur skull.

She blinked and this time noticed his weapons. In his hands he held a plasma rifle that was obviously not of standard Mobian issue. The barrel had several 'ridges' which ran horizontally down its length and upon the top most one was an optical scope. Also, the metal stock came down off of the bottom of it, rather then being built into like most were. The stock itself had a bizarre grip the likes of which she had never seen before, having a fully encompassing trigger guard, and also a hole behind that, apparently for him to stick his thumb and part of his palm through, which no doubt aided in steadying the weapon. Upon the stock, the mythosaur's skeletal gaze could be seen as well. It was then that she realized she was staring at a charric… and she knew of only one group of people who used that kind of rifle. Seeking confirmation, she looked over the rest of the armored warrior, and saw a telescopic zhaboka, a dual bladed sword, resting in a holster on his hip. Another glance revealed the silvery tip of a Stinger missile coming up just behind his helmet, which she knew would be attached to a jetpack. Two more missiles also dangled from a utility belt around his waist.

The armor and those weapons were the distinct tools of the trade of a Mandalorian warrior. Furthermore, if the horror stories that she'd been told as a little girl were correct, then the crimson skull upon the helmet meant only one thing: the mark of a Death Watchman, the elite soldiers who'd protected the Mandalorian leader on the field of battle, hardened veterans who'd seen dozens of engagements and bested scores of enemies…

Things had just taken a very official turn for the surreal.

"Derrick," the cougar panted, obvious relief in his voice.

"Got away scot-free," the soldier growled, walking up to Bunnie, who finally managed to snap out of her revere.

"Who are y'all?" she asked quietly, her gaze suddenly snapping back to the forest, just in case Norrack was still lingering about, finding that searching for the ARC was easier than trying to comprehend what was going on here.

"Long story," Derrick, replied, and the rabbit noticed a strange edge to his voice this time, one that sounded like the edge that would come from an old man. "One that can wait until these two have been seen to," he said, nodding his head at the other two Mobians.

Bunnie regarded him with a large amount of suspicion, as she had heard quite a bit about these soldiers during the Great War, and none of it good. He had probably saved her life, but his timing seemed almost too convenient, and conspiracy theories began to whirl in the rabbit's head that he might have been under the employ of the enemy. The ARC was likely more than capable of killing them all, so why had it fled after it had discovered them? After all, dead Mobians told no tales, as the saying went. After a moment, though, she figured she was in no position to complain, and so she focused on the next priority: getting the news to the others, and getting the cougar in front of her to a medical station, as he looked like he could have really needed some bacta, while the child looked like she could use a hot meal and a decent night's rest.

"Let's get ya'll patched up," she said in a quiet tone, wondering what the future held.

Victory had seemed so close just a few weeks ago, and now, everything was coming apart and falling down around them, and going straight to the Nine Hells while they were at it.

* * *

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Okay, hope that long technical stuff didn't bore anyone to death, and that Derrick's arrival and whatnot isn't too cliché.

Not sure what else to put here, other than to once again let you know that all feedback is greatly appreciated, be it advice and constructive criticism, ideas, or even flaming me (though I once again ask that you not bash canon characters)

With that, I leave you, and hope that this has been a good chapter.

Oh yes, before I forget, I want to encourage you all to check out Sonic SatAM: Ghost in the Machine, by Cyrex. He's done a great job with it, and really put a new spin on Metal Sonic.


	8. A False Calm

Hello again people, and I hope you are having a good day. Kinda hopped up on caffeine at the moment, as I had to work a close to eleven hour closer shift at McDonald's last night. Not fun, but hey, it's a paycheck.

At any rate, special thanks to animedragongirl for proofreading this chapter, and also a heartfelt thank you to everyone who's read it. For those of you who have reviewed, I hope I have responded satisfactorily, and for those of you who have just read it, I hope this has been worth your time.

Lawyers: I own nadda of Sonic and company, so leave me alone.

That said, here's chapter eight.

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A False Calm

Two days had passed since Uncle Chuck had arrived, bringing with him his news of the devil that now walked the world… the devil… that knew where they were. Word had also spread of the trio that had taken refuge among them, and all now knew of the armored warrior who resided within the medical hut, watching over the other soldier. Tensions were high, to say the least, as not only did Robotnik know of their location, and was no doubt raising an army to come and stamp them out, but there was already an enemy amongst them.

Those were the thoughts on Sally's mind as she emerged from her bathroom once again, coughing as she went and got herself a glass of water in hopes of washing the taste out of her mouth.

"You okay, Sally-girl?" came a voice, and she whirled to find Bunnie standing in her hut, apparently having entered while she was occupied.

"Fine, just feeling a little under the weather," was her reply, and she waved a dismissive hand at the cyborg rabbit, getting a frown in response.

"You sure, cause you weren't looking to good the other day either," she said with concern, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I said I was fine!" the ground squirrel snarled, causing her friend to recoil slightly, for which Sally was immediately ashamed. "I'm sorry, Bunnie, it's just that…"

"You've been under a lot of stress, Sally," her friend said, walking over and laying a comforting hand upon her shoulder. "I know that, we all do with all that's been happening around here, not to mention trying to talk some sense into that hard headed father of yours."

"It's more than that," the princess replied with a shake of her head, wondering if she should tell her suspicions to her friend.

"What do you mean?" Bunnie asked, something in her friend's tone setting off alarm bells in her head.

The ground squirrel reached a decision then, knowing that she would have to explain herself sooner or later, and her closest friend was probably the best person to break the news to under the given circumstances. She breathed deeply, steeling herself for the bomb that she was about to drop.

"Bunnie," she said, still trying to prepare herself, "I think I'm pregnant."

Whatever the cybernetic Mobian had been expecting to hear, that had not been it, and her eyes shot open wide, while her jaw just about became unhinged from the rest of her skull. For some moments, one could have heard a pin drop in the hut, before the rabbit was finally able to clamp her jaws back together, and a look of understanding appeared to come over her.

"It's Sonic's, isn't it?" she asked, staring at her friend intently, to which Sally nodded. "Oh, Sally-girl, your father's gonna throw a fit!"

That was an understatement of the highest caliber, and both of them knew it. King Acorn would do far more than throw a fit; he would likely go ballistic when he received this news, which was one reason that Sally had no intention of telling him anytime soon, something that she was quick to inform Bunnie about.

"You're going to have to tell him sometime," the cyborg remarked, a frown on her face.

"I know that," Sally said, placing her hands upon her temples and shaking her head. "But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, and he's not going to boss me around about this," she growled, quiet anger in her voice.

There was a moment of quiet understanding between the two of them, and Bunnie vowed that she would be there for her friend no matter what. However, as the princess had said, they would worry about that when the time came. Right now, there was an impending invasion to try and hold off, not to mention Norrack, and the Mandalorian warrior who was currently confined to the medical complex for his own protection.

"The doctors think that the wounded soldier's fit enough to tell us everything that happened," Bunnie said, remembering the original reason for her coming her, before her friend's little revelation had effectively derailed her train of thought. "I figured you might want to know that."

"Thanks," Sally replied with a nod of her head. "Let's go see what he has to say."

The two of them went outside after that, heading towards the medical complex, where hopefully, some answers awaited them.

It was a clear, calm day, and the birds chirped in the trees, which blew gently in the summer breeze. It was peaceful, serene, the calm before the storm, so to speak. Even now, Sally feared there could be an army of mechanized soldiers marching towards them, ready to shatter the idealistic tranquility of the village, to turn this whole place into a flaming pyre which would leave nothing but ashes to testify of all that had once been here, charred remnants of what had at one time been hopes and dreams.

Out of the corner of her eye, the princess saw a familiar checkered ball go flying, and she paused to give a look over to where it had come from. Tails was kicking his soccer ball around, much as he had done when his brother had still been among the living. However, he wasn't at it alone this time. The girl that the Mandalorian and the soldier had brought with them, Amy Rose, if she remembered correctly, was giggling and playing with the young kit. A faint smile tugged at the edges of her mouth, and she was glad to see that her beloved little Miles was trying to get some semblance of normalcy back in his life. It was probably good for the girl as well, for she had doubtless seen some rather traumatizing things, and anything that kept her from thinking about it at the moment was probably for the best.

* * *

Before long, they reached the medical complex, around which several armed guards had been stationed, as per her father's orders. They were regulars, those who had been in the military during the time of the coup, and it was evident in the way they went ramrod straight at her approach and the crisp salutes that they delivered. The princess nodded to them as she and her friend stepped inside, before walking down the corridors till they reached the room in which the two men were being housed.

It was evident which one that was, due to the fact that there were four more guards around the door. This was mainly because no one had yet managed to summon up the courage to try and relieve the Mandalorian, who was standing a vigilant guard over the other soldier, of his weapons. Uncle Chuck was standing right outside as well. He nodded as they approached and opened the door. They all stepped inside, looking over to the cougar, who was awake, if somewhat skittish and wide eyed in his hospital bed. The large amounts of bacta that he had been given had healed most of his wounds, though he would carry some very nasty scars to his grave with him.

Over in the corner of the room, was the Mandalorian, who was on his feet, his charric rifle held easily in both hands.

For a moment, she wondered why he had been standing, as there was a chair, but then she noticed that he still wore his jetpack, which would have doubtlessly made sitting down more than a little uncomfortable. She also wondered why in the world he still had it on, as there was little need for one inside of doors, to say nothing of how difficult it must have been to try and fly through a thickly wooded forest with something like that.

"How are you feeling?" she abruptly asked the cougar, Gunter, trying to refocus her mind on the reason for which she was here.

"Fine, ma'am," he said, his voice filled with fatigue. "You here to ask about what happened?"

"Yes, we were hoping you could fill us in on exactly what happened to you and your squad," Uncle Chuck replied, nodding gravely. "I saw part of the footage of what happened inside the factory, but what became of them afterwards?"

"That thing… that monster… it ripped us apart," Gunter said, pausing for a moment to lick his lips. "It followed us along the rooftops, I think, and it just kept picking us off. It ambushed us out of back alleys and from above. Goddess, I've never seen anything fight like that…" he said, before he went into a sickening detail of what he had seen, things that would have driven quite a few people insane with fear and terror.

"It let me go… and now I think I know why," the Freedom Fighter said, "It must have followed me back, found out where Pinewood was located. Then come back with more of its friends."

"Just like it followed you here," Sally muttered, frowning and rubbing her chin.

"That was my fault, I'm afraid," the Mandalorian said, stepping forward, "I figured that it was just a matter of time before the thing stumbled across another village anyway, and thought that if it was going to find a place like this, that the residents should at least be given a warning about it."

The guards shifted nervously as the armored warrior drew nearer. This got a chuckle from the Mandalorian, and he reached up, popping a seal and removing his helmet. Sally was surprised with what she saw, to say the least. The man underneath the armor was an artic fox who might have been considered ruggedly handsome at one point in time. However, age and battle had apparently taken quite a toll on him. The shinning white fur his kind normally had had faded to a dull gray, and wrinkles were clearly evident around his amber eyes. Discolorations in his facial fur indicated where a number of scars crisscrossed his visage, the most prominent of which was one that ran from the bottom of his right jaw all the way up to his temple, which was devoid of any hair whatsoever. He tucked his helmet, which he had somehow managed to clean since being brought here, under his left arm and extended his right hand to her, which she shook after a moment of hesitation, weary of anything that he might try, his age notwithstanding.

"Derrick Ordo, ma'am," he replied, something that sounded much like respect in his voice, "and I would assume that you are Princess Sally Acorn?"

"You assume correctly, though my title means little under these circumstances," she said, looking at him intently. "What happened at Pinewood?"

"After I showed up and warned them about what we had run into, everything was quiet and edgy for a day or two," Gunter said, leaning back against his pillow with a sigh. "Then the attack came… the woods were swarming with Swat Bots, I'd never seen so many before in my life… They hit us from the ground and the air, bringing in reinforcements in aerial transports and dropping them off inside of our defenses… It was a nightmare."

He went silent after that, and Derrick picked up, quiet anger evident in the fox's voice.

"Despite everything, our defenses were pretty strong and for a while, we held our own against Robotnik's forces, but then a snag came up, something that we hadn't anticipated," he said, sighing abruptly. "The thing that ripped Gunter's squadron apart came in from the back of the village. It took out our rear lines, and then caught the front line defenders with their fur wet." He paused for a moment, shaking his head. "After that, the battle became a massacre. I made a decision then, and bugged out. Happened to find Gunter along the way, and we figured that we had a better chance of surviving if we stuck together."

"What about the girl?" Uncle Chuck asked, noticing a strange light come into the Mandalorian's gold eyes.

"Found her huddling near what was left of her parents," Derrick growled, anger rumbling in his voice. "We couldn't just leave her, so I scooped her up and we got the fierfek out of there and we didn't look back." The fox paused for a moment collecting himself while Sally noted an expression that looked suspiciously like mental berating come over his face, as if he was scolding himself for something.

"Fancy that, compassion from a Mando…" came an Aussie accented voice that caused Sally to cringe.

Geoffrey St. John entered the room, with the king and prince in tow behind him. Derrick cocked his head to one side, as if to size up the skunk, and then he abruptly relaxed, or at least, he appeared to.

"So what have we learned?" King Maximilian inquired, crossing his arms and looking down his nose in the direction of the armored warrior who was a few feet away.

"The same… thing… that Bunnie saw and that we observed on the security camera was present in the attack on Pinewood," Sir Charles said, carefully avoiding mention of exactly what said thing was. "Robotnik's using it separate from the main forces, slipping it in from behind while the defenders are occupied keeping the Swat Bots at bay."

"Then it's a good thing that we've buffed up our rear defenses," the king said, a grim smile on his face, which caused Sally to frown. "Now, Sally, would you, Sir Charles, and your friend kindly leave us? I would like to ask this soldier here a few questions of my own." He paused for a moment, looking over to Derrick. "And you as well please."

The not so polite tone in his voice got the point across, and Derrick's response was to simply put his helmet back on, before following the other group out the door.

"Are you certain that it is wise to let him wander about, father?" Elias asked, a frown on his face as he watched the soldier's retreating figure.

"Everyone already knows he's here, son, so there's no point in trying to keep it a secret," the monarch responded, raising his head slightly, "and he's a Mandalorian. While I may hate his kind and praise the Goddess every day that he's no doubt among the last of them, he can't be stupid to have survived this long. He knows how badly he's outnumbered, and he won't try anything."

"If you say so, father," Elias said, his tone not exactly that of one who had been convinced.

* * *

She looked over her should as they stepped away from the medical facility and noticed that Derrick was still coming towards them.

It was something she would have never expected in all her years as a commander of soldiers, that she would lay her eyes upon one of his kind. The Mandalorians had originally come from a mountainous region to the far north of Mobius know as Concord Dawn, where they managed to eek out an existence off of cold and hard rocks in a manner not to dissimilar to that of the Wolf Pack. Their life was a hard one, a constant struggle for survival, where one mistake meant starvation or death in some other grisly fashion. As a result, they became every bit as tough and fierce as the environment that spawned them.

However, there had come a change in the climate of their home, and the biting winds had plunged to temperatures even colder than normal. Realizing that it would have been suicide to stay where they were, they left, and became a nomadic people. Events conspired, and after a few generations, they eventually evolved into the mercenary army that would make them so feared throughout the world. This was in the time before both the Mobians and the Overlanders had managed to unify themselves, and dozens of warring nobles and rulers constantly vied with each other for control of the planet. One who was more cunning quickly realized the potential of these northerners, and sought their employment. The price wasn't cheap, but the man got what he'd paid for, and was able to crush his adversaries.

That war was just one of many, and over the centuries, the Mandalorians gained a well deserved reputation as soldiers who were as ferocious as a wild drexl, but who also possessed a predatory cunning that was beyond most rank and file military officers. Whenever they showed up on a battlefield, grown men quivered in fear, as they knew that the Mandalorians gave no quarter in battle, and asked for none in return. However, despite their utterly vicious ways of fighting, they had a culture and a strange code of honor that she had never fully understood.

What had started the 'modern' feelings of resentment towards them had been the Great War. When it had broken out, the Mandalorians immediately went to either side, seeing who would take their services. King Acorn and his officers had just as quickly shown the representatives the door, as they held nothing but contempt for what they believed were uncouth brutes that killed for money.

The Overlanders, on the other hand, knew what the Mandalorians were capable of, and immediately employed the entire army to fight at their command. As the Mandalorians charged forth into battle, the soldiers of the king had been beaten back, slaughtered, and driven out of almost every major front line stronghold within a matter of months. Most dramatic of all had been the battle for Dagon's Peak, a mountainous stronghold that served as a northern border guard against Overlander invasion. There, a branch of the mercenary army had been mistakenly ordered on the offensive. The Mandalorians had faced an uphill battle against a determined foe that was dug in and waiting for them. Complicating matters was the fact that the attackers had been outnumbered at nearly four to one odds.

Amazingly, despite extremely heavy losses of their own, the Mandalorians had triumphed, completely wiping out the garrison that had been stationed there with the exception of a few soldiers who had been allowed to live and go home… so that they might spread the news of what had happened.

Eventually, though, through many trials and errors, General D'Coolette finally managed to best them in the battle. In a barren, forsaken desert region known as Malachor, they were surrounded and wiped out, returning the favor of so many battles as far as the Mobians were concerned.

Thus, one might finally understand the animosity towards Derrick, and Sally couldn't help but wonder, as he walked up to them, why in the world the people of Pinewood had allowed a Mandalorian to fight by their side.

"Forgive my lack of formal manners," Derrick said, his face once more hidden behind that intimidating T shaped visor, "but what exactly is this 'thing' that was after us."

"What makes you think that we know anything more about it than you do?" Uncle Chuck asked, a little leery of the old warrior.

"The way you hesitated before calling it a thing," he responded matter of factly. "You know something that Gunter and I don't."

Sally saw where this was heading, and the gears of her head quickly turned, analyzing the possible outcomes and what she should do about it. Finally, after a couple of seconds, she fell upon a conclusion that seemed the best: they would tell him. It was possible that he was indeed under Robotnik's employ, but she couldn't imagine a Mandalorian, especially one as old as this one, who had doubtless had a time surviving with all the hatred that most bore him, being that stupid. After all, Robotnik was notorious for his mastery of the art of the double cross. At any rate, even if his was working for the big round guy, then odds were that he already knew exactly what Norrack was, and so telling him again couldn't hurt; and if he was really on their side, well, knowledge, in the right hands, could be every bit as lethal as a thermal detonator.

"Tell him about Norrack," she told the old scientist standing next to her.

Sir Charles gave her a strange look, before apparently reaching the same conclusion as her. After all, he hadn't seen this guy in his surveillance of Robotropolis, and like Sally, he figured it couldn't hurt to tell him. Thus, he quickly launched into the same explanation that he had the day before, though he left out the part about the origins of the ARC 'prototypes', making it seem as though it was supposed to be a volunteer program.

"Hmmm," the Mandalorian muttered, tapping the lower part of his helmet, "now I don't feel quite so bad about having our shebs handed to us on a silver platter."

"And you can bet that Robotnik's probably going to use Norrack in a similar fashion when he finally gets around to trying to crush us," Uncle Chuck growled.

"Why is that?" Sally inquired, cocking her head towards him.

"The ARCs were predominately going to be solo troopers on their missions, though they had some knowledge of group tactics in case they ever needed to team up and bring down a large target. We figured that they were so powerful that any other form of assistance would just slow them down and complicate things," the roboticized hedgehog responded soberly, before laughing in a bitter manner. "The joke among my colleagues and I was that after the project was completed, if you wanted to get a job done, you'd need to send in a battalion of regular troopers, a couple of squadrons of black ops soldiers, or a single ARC. Never imagined that our work would be used against us like this."

"Always plan for a worst case scenario," Derrick said, raising a finger, "that was our downfall, I would have hoped that you would have learned from it." He paused, and then looked back over to the princess. "I am curious as to why there is no evacuation from this place, considering what's about to happen."

"My father's convinced that we can hold out here and fight off the Swat Bots," was her reply.

"Are you serious?" the Mandalorian asked, grateful that his look of disbelief was hidden behind his helmet.

"Unfortunately," she said, as she remembered the argument that they had had yesterday.

* * *

"You can't be serious, Father!" she practically shouted, her eyes bugged out as she looked to her father, her tone one of pure exasperation.

"I am," he replied as he moved over towards his desk, upon which were several pieces of paper. "We are going to hold Robotnik's forces here, and we are going to show him that we are not afraid, that we will not run and hide now that he knows where we are."

"Be rational, father!" his daughter pleaded, following him, "We don't have the manpower or the resources for that kind of operation!"

"Every soldier here is worth at least ten Swat Bots," was his calm reply. "They will march into these woods, and there they will run into our defenses, and before you know it, the forest will be filled with the mangled remains and spare parts of his robotic army."

"That would be fine if we were actually facing ten to one odds," Sally growled, crossing her arms over her shoulders. "But Robotnik has more than twenty five thousand Swat Bots in Robotropolis right now, we're outnumbered more than fifty to one! To say nothing of Norrack, if he manages to hit us while we're busy keeping a mechanized army at bay, then its game over for us!"

"Now you listen to me, young lady," her father snarled, rising up out of the chair that he had been sitting in, a stern look upon his face. "We have an obligation to defend this place. Knothole represents the heart of our resistance movement, if it falls, then all is lost!"

"That's not true, father," the princess responded with a shake of her head. "Knothole is nothing more than a place, a base of operations. If it's destroyed, we can make a new one, one that Robotnik doesn't know about. What truly matters are the people here. You, Elias, and the others, you represent what the people fight for, the freedom from their past that they hope to reclaim. You are irreplaceable." Her voice was calm now, as she struggled to maintain control of the situation. "We need to fall back, head for Bluebrook or some place like that and formulate a new plan of attack.

"I know it's hard to abandon this place, daddy, especially after all that's happened, all that we've been through," she said, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "But we can start over. To stay here, against what's about to come down on us, is nothing short of suicide. We can't defend Knothole against an entire army."

"Bean…" the king said, gently lifting her hand from his uniform. "Everything is going to turn out okay, just wait and watch."

Her calmness nearly spiraled out of control then, as she realized that he was treating her like a child who was afraid of the dark. Coddling her once again, as if she was still the five year old girl that she had been before all of this mess had happened nearly a decade and a half ago. Her blue eyes hardened, and the icy flames appeared once again. However, before she could say or do something that she would regret, she simply turned on her heel, and stormed out of the hut.

* * *

"No matter what I try, I can't convince him that if we stay here we're all going to die and we're going to die for nothing," she said, shaking her head sadly. "He's certain that our exterior and perimeter defenses can hold the line against whatever iron lips can throw at us." She sighed abruptly, reaching up and rubbing one of her temples. "We designed those defenses to take out a patrol of Swat Bots or other mechanicals that had stumbled across our location before they could radio back in where we were, or, if all else failed, as a rear guard action while we got out of here. They aren't designed to hold off a full scale invasion force!"

"We've got to try and buffer them up somehow," Charles said, "any hope of lasting out against these ridiculous odds are going to have to require that we can keep beating back enemy advances until Robotnik decides that he's tired of losing so many troops and pulls back to think of a new plan. Hopefully, that'll buy us more time to come up with something."

"Do you really think that will work, sugar Chuck?" Bunnie asked, a frown on her face.

"If you have a better plan, considering what we've got to work with, then I am all audio receptors," he said, before looking down at his watch. "As it is, though, I have to get going, I still have stuff that I have to help Rotor with."

With that he walked off, leaving the others to their thoughts. At this, Derrick turned and looked down to the princess.

"Is your father really determined to hold the line against Robotnik's strongest legions?" he asked again, any expression that he might have had hidden by his helmet.

The response that he got was a nod.

"What a di'kut," he said, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "Even a Mandalorian would balk at such an order. Courage is commendable, but you're right, this is suicide without a purpose, and there is no honor in that."

"Like you would know anything of honor, Mando," came a voice, and they turned to watch Geoffrey approaching them, his usual swagger about him.

Derrick slowly looked towards the skunk, his head cocked to one side as he seemed to study the officer once again.

"I know of the reputation of the princess and her compatriots, for I have heard the tales of their courage and valor many times, but who, may I ask, are you?" he inquired, his voice that of someone mildly amused at the situation.

"Colonel Geoffrey St. John, in charge of their majesties' protection," the skunk replied, looking down at Derrick, who was an inch or two shorter than him.

"Never heard of you," the Mandalorian replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"I'm not surprised, your kind always were idiots who cared for little outside of making war on anything that moved," Geoffrey shot back smugly. "And if they were all as old and decrypt as you are, mate, its no wonder they got wiped out."

"Watch your tongue, pup!" Derrick snarled, taking a step forward and balling up his fist, switching from being calm to ready to fight so quickly that even Bunnie was startled. "I may be old, but unlike you, I've faced real foes, not those glorified tin cans that Robotnik has under his control! I've fought soldiers of flesh and blood, men and women with honor and courage in their souls." He took another step forward, until he was right up with Geoffrey, looking up through his helmet at the colonel. "I was at Dagon's Peak, and I remember how we triumphed over your soldiers, how we 'ignorant warmongers' ripped into your strongest defenses, despite the admirable effort your troops put up." He paused, and Sally could tell that if she didn't do something in a moment, that the Mandalorian, no doubt on edge from the last couple of days, would do something that nobody was going to like. "And I was at Malachor, and I remember how many soldiers of the Mobian army died to stop us there!"

She saw him start to reach back, and she realized that he was probably about to give Geoffrey a black eye. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward, and caught the blow before he could launch it. As she did, she heard a slight 'snick' like noise and her eyes widened as a serrated knife blade popped out from underneath Derrick's left arm armor plate. However, she quickly composed herself, switching over to 'commander mode,' determined to get this situation under control.

"That's enough, both of you!" she snarled, her glare cause Geoffrey to do a double take, and Derrick to look over at her. "We've got enough problems to worry about as it is without throwing infighting into the mix! You!" she growled, starring into the helmet of the Mandalorian. "I don't know what the rules were over in Pinewood, but you're here right now, and you are going to obey and answer to me, do you understand?" she inquired, waiting until the old soldier nodded before releasing her grip upon his wrist.

She then looked back at Geoffrey.

"And you, Colonel. Conduct yourself with the discipline that comes with your station!" she hissed, looking him dead in the eyes, taking some measure of satisfaction at the shock that she saw in them. "You do not go around picking fights with someone just because of who they are. Right now we need everyone who can use a blaster, and I will not stand for anyone scrapping it out amongst themselves, save it for the enemy!" she gathered her breath, looking back and forth between the two warriors. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

After a moment, both nodded, and with a yes ma'am backed away from each other. Geoffrey turned and left, while Derrick bowed his head, and flicked his wrist in a certain manner, causing the blade to snap back into its hidden sheath.

"My apologies, princess," he said after a moment, and Sally was surprised to hear what sounded like sincere regret coming from behind that helmet. "I should have controlled myself better… that was… unprofessional."

"Don't feel too bad," Bunnie said, empathizing with him to a slight degree, "I think I would have reacted the same way if someone started trashing my kin like that. 'Sides, Geoff's got a way of getting under your skin, I swear at times I think he practices."

"I do not understand why you despise us so much," he said, once again removing his helmet as letting his aged eyes stare at the two of them. "Why do your people still carry hatred towards us about a conflict that ended thirteen years ago?"

"You don't hate _us_ for wiping you out?" Sally said, caught somewhat off guard by the fox's remark.

"We're taught not to, or at least… we were. Though I will admit I held grudges against… certain individuals," Derrick replied with a shrug as he looked down towards the ground. "General D'Coolette caught us flatfooted. We never thought that your army would commit so much of its manpower and its resources to our destruction, and when a force ten times the size of our own caught us camping out in the Malachor desert, we were unprepared. The rest is history…"

Perhaps it was the tone of voice he used, the way that it seemed to be one part bitter resignation, the other part a strange longing, that touched the princess. Regardless of what it was, before she could stop herself, she asked a question that she never would have expected of herself.

"How did you survive?" she asked.

"I was taken prisoner," he said, sighing, before smiling grimly. "Think about it, princess, I was a Death Watchman, it was the job of me and my brothers and sisters to keep the Mandalore safe. We were to fight to the death to keep him from being killed or captured. I was a real feather in someone's cap."

"If you were a prisoner, how did you escape?" she continued.

"Ironically enough, in Robotnik's coup," was the answer that she got. "When he started taking over, things started going to hell in a hand basket. When he blew the power stations to take out your communication networks, I was able to get out of the cell I was in. I went looking, found my armor and my weapons, and got out of the capital."

"How did you know where to find your gear?" Bunnie asked, suddenly suspicious, knowing that if his story was true, then he'd been in the slammer for quite some time, as the Mandalorian army had been destroyed two years before the end of the Great War.

"Heard some of my guards bragging about how it had gotten stashed in the History of Warfare museum," was his response. "I guess they figured that it would insult me or something."

The rabbit stared at him, somewhat suspicious of his answer, noting that it seemed terribly convenient. Nonetheless, it was possible that his armor and weapons could have been taken as a battlefield trophy.

Laughter split the air, and all three turned to see Tails, Amy, and several other children still playing around with their soccer ball, the pending battle hopefully far from their young minds. It was then that Sally decided once again to ask something else of the Mandalorian that was next to her, something that had been in the back of her mind ever since he had mentioned it.

"Why did you bring Amy with you?" she inquired, turning to face Derrick.

"Simply because I am a warrior, do not assume that I have no common decency," the fox growled, his gaze upon the children, specifically Sally noticed, upon Tails. "Even though we Mandalorians all seek death on the battlefield, we know that someone shouldn't die that young. Besides, if you had seen her there, crying over her parents bodies and you hadn't helped out, you'd have to be as cold hearted as our current dictator…"

Something about his tone made her pause, and she knew that there was more to this story than met the eye. However, as Derrick turned and began to walk off, she decided not to press the issue. She had enough to worry about as it was.

Which reminded her, Uncle Chuck had wanted to get the preliminary testing on the flechette weapons done today, and he'd wanted her and the others to help him out. He, Rotor, and dozens of others had been working round the clock to get their equipment up and running, well aware that time was not on their side and they could not afford to face an enemy like this unprepared.

* * *

Rotor's tech lab was abuzz with activity, mechanics and engineers running about, hastily operating machinery and putting together vital components. Scattering among what they were working on were mugs and cups, all stained with the last dregs of coffee that they'd been filled with. Hardly anyone had slept, knowing that their efforts were vital to the defense of their home, and to the cause that they had pledged themselves.

Rotor himself wiped a large amount of sweat from his brow with his cap and then picked up what he was working on, a shotgun, before placing it carefully in a rack that was holding an ever growing number of the weapons. Then, pausing only to get another swig of his caffeine loaded beverage, he rushed about, grabbing the pieces that he'd need for another one. Sally admired his dedication, and then stared over to the storage rack. It had been designed to hold about forty or so of the slug throwers, and it looked to be about half filled.

Further down at the opposite end of the workshop, she could see a group of Mobians who were also hard at work. These men and women were putting together the other necessary component for the weapons: the deadly ammo shells which would be filled with flechette rounds. Despite the fact that she knew what these weapons were meant to do, Sally couldn't repress a shudder. One blast to the right area with his shields down, and Norrack's guts would be so much bloody confetti.

On one of her earliest raids, she'd watched one of her soldiers get hit in a similar manner with a piece of shrapnel. It had come from an exploding combat hovercraft, so it had been rather large, and with the force of the blast propelling it, had nearly cut the poor man in half. As it was, she watched his innards spill out of his stomach, and he'd made a grab for them, before the pain reached his brain, and he'd collapsed. There hadn't been much screaming, he'd fallen into shock far too fast, but his body continued to spasm regardless, flopping around like a fish out of water for a minute or two, all the while the pavement underneath him and turned reddish black with his blood.

She had to remind herself that she was trading the life of one poor, enslaved soul, for all the others that he would kill if someone didn't stop him. It still wasn't easy, but then, command decisions rarely were.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning, found Uncle Chuck was motioning for them to come over to where he was. With his processor brain and mechanized body, Sir Charles was a one Mobian assembly line, and it showed in the large pile of what the princess assumed were vibro blades that lay next to him. She was curiously surprised to note that Antoine was in here as well, holding one of the weapons and looking it over.

There were also several objects that she had no clue what they were for. The devices were flat, and basically circular, with a pair of buttons on it. She also noticed that he one that the roboticized hedgehog was holding had a pair of straps upon it. Judging by their size, this gadget was meant to be worn upon the forearm.

"I was hoping you'd drop by," he said, before lowering his gaze to the device which he held in his hand. "I have something I wanted to show you. Something that should help the soldiers carrying vibro blades if they should run into Norrack," the old scientist said, a grim smile upon his metal visage.

He then slipped the device upon his arm, and pressed the button on his right. Instantly, there was a popping sound, and from the device sprang a blue, semi-transparent field that extended outward about a foot in every direction.

"It's a portable shielding unit, similar to the one that Norrack has built into his armor, though it's obviously less effective than a full body covering," the mechanized hedgehog told them, answering the unspoken question. "With luck, they'll hold up against his blades so that a group of our troopers can surround him and take him down if it comes to that."

"You don't know if they'll work?" Bunnie stated with a frown, reaching forward and thumping the energy field, causing a distinctly visible shimmer to go over it.

"Well, we don't exactly have a kaiburr sword of our own to test it against, so I've been using vibro blades," Uncle Chuck told her, gesturing to the pile that was to his side, and then he deactivated the shield by pressing the other button. He then slipped it off of his arm and handed it to Sally. "I don't know how long we've got before Robotnik decides that he wants to drop by and say hello to the rest of us, so I suggest that you get used to these."

"Sugar Chuck," Bunnie asked him as he went to grab a vibro blade, "if its all the same to you, do you think you might be able to make one for me that I'm a little more used to?

The robotic hedgehog paused for a moment, mulling over what she had just asked him. He knew that the cybernetic Mobian knew next to nothing about the use of a traditional longsword like Sally, or a saber, like Antoine. However, she was far more familiar with more exotic weaponry (a practice that she'd adopted shortly after her partial roboticization to take her mind off of what had happened to her). She was particularly adept with a double edged glaive that he had seen her use several times out in the village.

"I'll do my best," he told her with a reassuring nod. "In the meantime, why don't you guys try and become more familiar with some of Rotor's work. I'd rather you not have to get up close and personal with that ARC unless you absolutely have to."

The three of them nodded silently, before heading over to where the gun rack was. With infinite care, they removed the weapons, noticing how different they felt from the usual plasma rifles and laser submachine guns that they'd used before. The shotguns were crude weapons from an era long since past, but then, little of war could truly be called elegant.

Rotor, noticing their interest in his work, quickly explained what these weapons did. They were pump action, capable of holding about a dozen shells each, which were loaded in through a small hatch like device on the bottom into a tube that ran underneath the barrel.

After that, they'd headed out back to a gun range that had been set up for testing and calibrating the weapons.

Antoine had been the first to shoulder and use his weapon, and all had learned two very important lessons from him.

First, that at short range, a shotgun could impose a world of hurt upon anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves on the business end of the device. Secondly, unlike blaster weapons, the chemical explosion required to force the flechette slugs out of the barrel of a shotgun produced a lot of recoil, as they had discovered when the blast had kicked the gun into the coyote's shoulder, and knocked him to the dirt.

Above all, it reminded them that this was a weapon designed for one purpose: to kill a target in an extremely painful manner. It also reminded them that Robotnik was coming, and that he had in his arsenal a weapon whose destructive potential was many times what these slug throwers were capable of.

The princess could only pray that they were able to take Norrack out before he brought too many brave men and women down with him.

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Okay, not much happening here, action wise, and I hope I did a good job with explaining the back story of Derrick's people. One more chapter, and then the battle begins, so I hope you'll bear with me.

That said, any ideas, advice, constructive criticism, flames, etc, are welcomed with open arms.

Thank you all, and have a wonderful day.


	9. Upon the Edge

Hello once again to you all, and I hope that this update finds you in good health. Once again, another prep chapter, though there are hints of the action that is to come in the future (next chapter, which is already nearly finished) and at the rate its shaping up, the battle for Knothole could consist of three or so six to seven thousand word chapters, so I hope it will be worth the wait.

Once again, I wish to thank everyone who has been so kind and read this story. To those of you who have left me a review telling me what you think, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To those who have merely read, I sincerely hope that this tale has intrigued and pleased you, as I know there aren't many SatAM based stories out here.

Lawyers: I don't own a thing except for my own characters, so don't worry about me trying to make a profit off of this sucker.

Now, here's chapter nine.

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Upon the Edge

Four days had passed since Gunter, Derrick, and Amy had arrived with news of Pinewood's destruction, four days since Norrack had followed them and learned of Knothole's location.

And still, nothing had come of it. No attack or assault, not even a single Swat Bot, nothing that would indicate that Robotnik was coming to wipe them off the face of the planet.

It was making Sally uneasy, and as she stared out at the forest from one of the guard towers she wondered what was taking Robotnik so long. Bunnie was also pretty edgy, if the near constant tapping of her metallic feet against the wood of the tower was any indication.

The princess growled softly to herself as she raised her macro binoculars and did another scan of the surrounding area. She knew that the maniacal dictator was up to something, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what he was hoping to do. Was he trying to lull them into a false sense of security, thinking that after all this time of nothing happening, that the Freedom Fighters would just up and assume that he wasn't coming and let their guard down?

Perhaps he was taking his time, marshalling his forces for a strike that was certain to destroy them. After all, it was entirely conceivable that Norrack might have infiltrated them again, and upon noticing no evacuation, relayed back to his master that the resistance looked like it was going to stay put.

Whatever was going on, the tension around the village was getting to be so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Tempers were flaring, and everyone seemed to be running around on the edge of an adrenaline rush. She and the rest of her friends had found that the best cure for this potential hostility was training, and lots of it.

It had taken some time to get the hang of using the flechette shotguns that Rotor had been turning out, and many of the soldiers who had been selected to carry them had gone away from their first round out on the firing range with a few bruises to show for their work. There was also the small matter of learning how to fight with the energy shields that had been issued to them.

This was where Antoine had come in handy. In his youth, before the coup, his father had trained him in the 'older' arts of fighting, believing that the boy would benefit from the discipline that came from learning the many maneuvers that were necessary to master the art of blade and shield. For all his faults, the coyote had held himself to that, and was probably the only one in Knothole who knew how to handle the two in tandem with one another.

He had proven to be quite a teacher, and while Sally would not delude herself into thinking that she or anyone else was likely a match for the cybernetic killing machine that the vibro blades and shields would be put to use against, she knew for a fact that sheer numbers could overwhelm strength and skill. After all, that was what Robotnik was going to probably try and pull off in his strategy.

She heard voices and looked down. Rotor and several other technicians were heading out into the forest perimeters, every one of them loaded down with EMP mines. These ones were a new version that the walrus had created, ones capable of far greater destructive power than the small one that Sonic had managed to pelt Mecha with. Whereas the original had an effective radius of a mere five feet, these newer models had about seven times that range. However, they possessed a proximity detonator of about six feet. This would presented a nice hybrid solution of them not having to worry about wasting the mines due to too few being caught in the blast and them not going off at all because they hadn't been stepped on.

The princess walked around the wooden balcony that she was standing on, to where she could see back into the village a little better. Almost everywhere, soldiers were scrambling about, getting their various defensive instruments into place. Two rings of trenches had long ago been dug around the perimeter of Knothole, so that if an enemy ever did attack, they'd find themselves dealing with a defensive force that was dug in and presented a considerably smaller target. Also, from everything that Sally had ever seen, Swat Bots were not the world's greatest climbers, so they would really be slowed down in the event that they had to pull back. Complimenting the trenches were numerous emplacements of LEX-275s.

There were also several hastily erected pillboxes that had been placed in the trenches at key defensive locations. Made of fast drying dura-crete with five centimeters of ferrosteel armor bolted onto them, they were like stationary tanks, and that was practically what would be required to get past them. The outer trench held ten such defensive emplacements, the inner one six, and each one held a pair of Lexs, which protruded ominously from murder holes that had been made in the pillboxes, as if daring Robotnik's metallic legions to come forth and be slaughtered.

And come they would, of that, the young ground squirrel held no doubt.

And if he came full force, even those defenses wouldn't hold forever.

There was a clattering at the rope ladder that led up to the lookout post, and she and Bunnie walked over to find that Antoine and Geoffrey St. John were climbing up, signaling that their turn at the watch was over and done with. The princess kneeled down to help the coyote up. He nodded his thanks, but remained silent other than that.

She couldn't help but silently marvel at the change that had come over the guard as he took Bunnie's macro binoculars and immediately set to his job. A few weeks before, the coyote had been something delicately described as a less than ideal soldier, though his heart had always been in the right place. However, ever since Sonic's death, Antoine had become almost fanatical in his devotion to his monarch and his duties. No more did he fall asleep on watch, or fumble through his tasks with mutterings that it was something that was beneath him. Gone too, was any trace of the nervousness that occasionally bordered on cowardice, his usual trademark. Now he was serious at all times, a frown nearly always upon his visage as he stared out, waiting for the enemy to arrive.

And she was not the only one to have noticed. Bunnie had as well, and was still very much worried over the abrupt change in her boyfriend. However, her cybernetic friend had yet to summon up the courage to ask him about it, and Sally herself was torn between pressing the issue and trying to get it resolved, or waiting until after the inevitable battle. It was a tricky situation, and the wrong choice would likely affect Antoine's ability to fight at his peak, something that she desperately need for him and everyone else to do if they were to have any chance of pulling off this defensive action.

She also didn't miss the poisonous glare that the coyote sent at Geoffrey as the skunk pulled out his own binoculars and went to scanning. Something had happened between those two, and she prayed that they'd just forget about it in the face of the real enemy.

Sally and Bunnie quickly descended from their perch, and went their separate ways. The rabbit was going to the garage, to help with last minute repairs and modification to their vehicles, and the princess was heading to the firing range, to get another round of shotgun training under her belt.

* * *

The range was rather full as she arrived, with soldiers trying to make certain that their weapons properly calibrated and operating at optimum capability before everything went down, as well as polishing their own abilities.

The range was another thing that Rotor had thought up some time back. They had been presented with the problem of training some of the younger and rawer Freedom Fighters into true and fearsome soldiers, soldiers that were capable of making the split second decisions that meant life or death in their risky trade. Thus, the brilliant walrus had come up with this little beauty, based off of some recovered plans of actual simulators that the Mobian army used to use to train with.

The 'targets' were small remote sensors that created holographic images of the various mechanized units that made up old iron lips' army. These were deployed onto the range, which was about eight hundred square feet in diameter, something that allowed for group tactical training as well. The remotes would move around in an attempt to simulate how Swat Bots and the like actually operated. With a bit of work, Rotor had actually managed to get the remotes to where they were capable of returning fire. Mind you, the lasers of the tiny remotes were nothing approaching what a bot's integrated plasma blaster was capable of, leaving just a small burn if it were to strike you on the arm as opposed to removing it entirely.

The soldiers had a variety of things with which they could train and improve on. Foxholes had been dug to allow them to train in the defensive style of war that was coming, while some of the course was dedicated to open plain warfare, the kind where you had little cover to take advantage of and had to be alert at all times, lest a shot from a flanking enemy catch you in the back. In addition to those, there was also a region that was strew with trees and debris in an attempt to simulate a combination of forest fighting and urban warfare, the two types of skirmishes that the troopers would be most involved with.

What surprised the princess the most was that Derrick was also present upon the range.

The Mandalorian was moving around, taking careful measured shots at his holographic targets, dodging, ducking and rolling whenever the remotes returned fire. He appeared to be completely absorbed in his work, not noticing, or not caring, the reactions of the others to his presence. Some gave him glares that would have taken out a battle tank if such things were possible. Their teeth were bared as they stared at this leftover relic of a bygone era, this enemy soldier who had dared to come among them as he truly was. Others seemed in awe of the near perfect control the old fighter seemed to have over his blaster rifle.

Adding to that sense of amazement was that the Mandalorian had apparently taken the time to polish and clean his armor and his kama over the past two days. The armor now gleamed like polished obsidian, while the kilt like piece of cloth now had his clan symbol, a golden serpent wrapped around a zhaboka, clearly visible upon its black background. As she watched him moving about with the disciplined ease of a seasoned warrior, the princess wondered how the soldiers of the Great War must have felt, when they saw the mercenaries come charging or flying in at them.

After watching him for a couple of minutes, Sally calculated that Derrick was pulling off an accuracy rate of about seventy odd percent, which wasn't very bad, considering the speed at which he was firing, and the fact that both he and his targets were moving around.

He was reacting as years of harsh, real life battles had probably taught him. You had to be fast, to shoot and dodge about, because if you slowed down for even a single second, you were likely to draw fire from somewhere, and a standing target usually went down pretty fast.

A second later, the Mandalorian decided that it was perhaps time to spice things up a bit, as he was starting to draw more fire from the enemy holograms. Even Swat Bots could do basic target prioritization, and they usually went for the guy doing the most shooting. A loud, jet engine whine filled the air as the old warrior activated his jetpack, and blasted up into the air. Reaching an altitude of about fifty feet, he began to fly about, dipping and diving, weaving around in the air in an attempt to avoid the ever increasing number of training lasers that were being thrown his way. All the while he continued to fire down at them, though his aerial maneuvers certainly did not make things easier, something Sally noticed as his shots became noticeably less accurate, though he still managed to drop a good number of targets.

After about forty five seconds of being in the air, he descended, landing in a forward roll as the twin repulsor jets of his pack shut off, and the princess couldn't help but wince as he went up on his back, all of his weight pressed into his jetpack. There had been times when she had rolled with a sack full of explosives strapped to her back, and she always had a nice little bruise as a reminder of what happens when one puts all of ones weight upon a small metallic object. However, bruises beat death.

The Mandalorian came up out of the roll and fired off a couple of shots, taking down another hologram, before diving to one side to avoid fire from its closest comrade. The old artic fox came up once more, and snapped off another pair of shots, eliminating that one.

Then it appeared as though practice was over, as he calmly holstered his rifle, and walked off of the range, coming over towards Sally.

"Morning, Princess," he said, tapping two fingers to the front of his helmet.

After that, he went over and leaned up against the command booth of the range, before unholstering his rifle again, and giving it a once over. Leaving him to his business, the young ground squirrel moved out onto the range, before getting down in a foxhole on the far side of the range and taking aim with the shotgun. She lifted her right arm up to where it was about parallel with her shoulder, forming a pocket that she set the butt end of the weapon into. This was the method that Uncle Chuck had showed them, and it was usually the one that resulted in the fewest aches and pains when all was said and done.

She pumped the weapon, loading a shell into the firing chamber, and then pulled the trigger.

A loud boom echoed over the gun range as the firing pin struck the back of the shell. A fraction of a second later, the flechette pellets streaked out of the end of the barrel, moving too quickly and being too small to follow with her eyes. However, the results were unmistakable, as her holographic target faded from view, the remote retreating from the range.

The gun kicked like an enraged terrapod, but after many hours of practice, the ground squirrel had learned how to deal with that, and she loaded another shell as she brought the gun back down, lining up with the next target. Once more, the shotgun boomed, and once again a target flickered and disappeared. This repeated itself ten more times, until the slug thrower was out of ammo.

Without hesitation of any kind, Sally flipped the gun over, and ripped open an ammo pouch on her belt. As fast as she could, the princess began to reload the weapon, slipping the shells into the gun. It was a painfully slow way to reload, something that had bothered her. But, then again, against something like Norrack, she highly doubted there would be a need for reloading.

Either they'd get him with their first shots, or they'd be dead before reloading even became an issue.

She continued with her training until she'd eliminated all of her targets several times over. Satisfied with how well she had done, she slipped her arm through the strap of the slug thrower, and got it positioned on her shoulder. She then turned, stepping out of the foxhole and getting ready to leave. However, something caught her eye that caused her to stop.

Derrick was walking over to a group of soldiers, who were firing all out on a Swat Bot formation that was advancing on them.

"Inefficient," the Mandalorian remarked, causing them all to look back up at him, heedless of the training lasers flying at them.

"What do you mean?" one of the soldiers asked him, eyeing the old artic fox warily.

"You're using more ammo than you need to on these tin cans," was the growled reply. "Burst fire like that is good for an organic target that's got a lot of armor and needs to be dropped in a hurry, but you and I both know that Robotnik's forces normally have armor and combat capabilities on par with your average dirt farmer militia."

"Then how do you do it, Mando?" another trooper growled, not bothering to keep the disdain out of his voice.

In the blink of an eye, the former Death Watchman had shouldered his rifle and snapped off a pair of shots. The crimson plasma bolts impacted on a holographic Swabot a moment later, and it faded from view, the remote that had generated it beating a hasty retreat off the range. He then turned to face the princess.

"I haven't the faintest clue how this thing works," he said, shrugging helplessly while gesturing out over the firing range. "Can you change it to where the targets are stationary and non hostile?"

Sally nodded and headed over to the control booth, before typing a few commands into the computer. A couple of seconds were required for the new orders to take effect, and then every single target came to a halt and stood stock still.

"Only fire burst or full auto when they're about to surround you," Derrick said in a matter of fact tone, "other than that, you treat a Swat Bot just like you would an unarmored organic opponent." He shouldered his rifle again. "Double tap them, one to the heart, and one to the head." He then demonstrated for them again, and the chosen target faded.

"Make certain you take your chest shot first," the aged warrior said as he brought his weapon back down, "that way you don't have to fight your weapon's recoil to get it back in line. Now, give it a shot."

Shrugging, the young soldiers proceeded to, and were pleasantly surprised to find that the Mandalorians words rang true. They also didn't miss the part about letting their weapons recoil work form them, as most of the time, depending upon the distance to the target, the first shot would kick the barrel of their blasters up. Then they would be perfectly (or very near so) in line for the headshot.

"You can restart the course now," Derrick said, looking over his shoulder to the princess, who nodded and entered the necessary commands.

As the firing range once again became active, the troopers resumed their training, this time with considerably more efficiency. Sally nodded as she looked out and saw them in action, a grim and determined smile upon her face. She still wasn't certain if this defensive action they had planned was going to work, but even if they lost, and all here died, she knew that Robotnik would pay dearly for his victory.

She shook her head a moment later. Now was not the time to think about that kind of silver curtain. With proper defensive management and force deployment, and a pinch or so of divine intervention, they just might be able to pull this off. It was certainly a long shot, but she would not give up hope.

Almost unconsciously, she placed a hand upon her stomach, and felt her determination renewed, the blazing fires once more returning to her eyes.

She didn't care what it took, she would see Julian dead before this war was over.

Her work at the range done, she decided that it would perhaps be best for her to head to the garage, to make certain that the Wraiths were all ready and operating at top condition.

* * *

The garage was noisy, as usual, with all the mechanics and combat engineer's running around, trying to make certain that their machines were ready to make their stand against Robotnik's legions.

Not surprisingly, Uncle Chuck was among those working there. Once again, the roboticized hedgehog did the work of four or five of his counterparts, rushing from one job to the next without pause… that it, at least until his electronic eyes fell upon Sally.

The ground squirrel still did not know what to make of the old man. The revelations of the last few days threw everything she thought she knew about him out of joint. How could this man, so kind and gentle, in many ways, the ideal father, have so callously referred to the boy he would raise as a 'prototype?' It just didn't seem possible that the same man who Sonic had always looked up to and admired, whom he had shed tears over (a rare thing indeed) could be the same person who had come up with the idea of creating the ARCs.

Slowly, as if guessing why she was staring at him, Sir Charles put down the repulsor lift generator piece that he was working on, and began to walk over to her.

"Hello, Sally," he said softly, his head bowed and his eyes upon the ground.

"Hello, Sir Charles," she responded, her tone neutral, lacking its normal warmth that it had when she spoke with him.

"Let's go outside… we need to talk," the old scientist responded.

The girl nodded silently, and followed him as he walked out into the village, leaving the din and chaos of the garage behind them.

"I suppose you want to ask me about what's happened over the past couple of days…" Uncle Chuck asked with a bitter tone, leaning forward against a railing.

"Among other things," Sally said, looking over at him.

"When I first started the ARC project with my colleagues, we were all so enthusiastic and excited." He began. "Here was our chance to lend our aid to our country, to fight for what believed in, in our own way. It was like your father said, every single one of us believed that we were exchanging the souls of a few people for the entire nation…"

"So what changed?" she asked, her tone softening slightly, being replaced by a strange curiosity, a desire to know what had happened.

"I think it was when our two ARCs were born," he said, nodding his head up and down slightly as if trying to confirm for himself that that was the moment. "Sonic and Shadow didn't cry much, you know, they just stared around at the world, silently taking it all in." the old Mobian paused for a second, and Sally could tell that he was on the verge of choking up. "I knew, then and there, I could never go through with what I had started. If you saw them, how innocent they were… to turn them into what they were meant to be would have made me worse than Robotnik…"

He paused once again, overcome and unable to go on with his tale, his metallic body heaving with sobs, but unable to shed tears like a normal person could.

Sally felt her anger towards him cool, tempered out by the agony that the mechanized hedgehog was going through. As she thought about it, she remembered back, remembered all the time that Chuck had spent with his 'nephew,' the games they'd played together, the way he had always there when Sonic had needed him…

She forgave the old man then and there. How could she continue to be angry with him, when it was evident that he was now in a hell of his own making, having not only lost his nephew, no… his son, but now having his own past actions return to haunt him?

Not knowing what else she could down, Sally reached out and embraced him, letting the old scientist cry into her shoulder.

* * *

Many miles distant, within the smog choked region of Robotropolis, another army was getting set up and ready.

Julian Ivo Robotnik stared down at the legions of Swat Bots that he had assembled. The full twenty five thousand Swat Bots and Hover Bots stood down in the streets, arranged into companies of four hundred. Each one of those had a commander bot in charge of it. They were no different from the rank and file machines that they oversaw, save that they had a slightly superior processing capability so that they might better direct their own troops.

If there was one thing the maniacal overlord prided himself on, it was his ability to maintain strict order under the chaos of a traditional battlefield, and a highly organized chain of command was what kept everything under control. Over five of these companies, a Swat Bot designated as a colonel oversaw them. Overseeing three of these colonels was a high commander, who in turn answered to the general, Mecha. Once again, at first glance, it would have been nearly impossible to tell these higher ranking machines from the ones they were in charge of, as they bore the same color scheme and were constructed of the same manner.

For all his shortcomings in when dealing with guerilla warfare, Julian had a nearly unparalleled mastery of standard infantry combat. After all, he had overthrown the leadership of the Acorn Kingdom, tossed the king into another dimension, and brought eighty five percent of the planet under his control within twenty four hours of the coup's opening shot. One couldn't pull that off on luck alone. Armed with his experience, he had seen no need to paint the officers in a different color scheme or anything of that nature, as such a manner tended to draw attention from the enemy. He might as well just slap a bulls eye upon them and be done with it.

No, that wasn't necessary. Swat Bots identified each other by the serial code of their radio transponders, and they were preprogrammed to recognize when orders were coming from a bot higher up on the chain of command.

Of course, Mecha stood out like a sore thumb, but there really wasn't a whole lot that could be done about that. Besides, he could put up with far more abuse than anything he commanded, and with his processor brain, was more than capable of doing all the split second multitasking skills that were required of an android in his position.

However, there was one unit that operated outside of the robotic hedgehog's authority: Norrack. The ARC trooper answered to Robotnik and to him alone, mainly due to the fact that his mission objectives in this operation were so radically different from the rest of the army. Naturally, though, Mecha hadn't been overly fond of the idea that he couldn't control the cyborg, but the dictator had pretty much told him to deal with it.

The android was still angry about that, Robotnik could feel the simmering rage in his voice every time that he reported in with a notification that another company or whatnot was ready to roll out, but the overlord was positive that he would be fine once he started killing things.

Which was something that would be happening very shortly.

He smiled in a dark and vile manner that befitted a man of his station and attitude, before rubbing his chin with his mechanical left hand and looked down upon the marshalling army of robots. While twenty five thousand soldiers who knew no fear and cared nothing for their own welfare might have seemed like overkill to the layman, Julian knew that it was the right thing to do. Overkill got the job done.

Besides, if the past few weeks had taught him anything, it was that the current model was rapidly becoming out of date. He had plans for a new generation of battle droids, ones far more dangerous and efficient. This seemed like a much better solution for phasing out the Swat Bots than simply putting them in a scrap yard. Might as well have them go out doing something useful.

He had had Norrack make a few scouting probes in and around Knothole before the guerillas' own patrols and mounting exterior defenses had made it necessary to recall the ARC back to Robotropolis, as he wanted no harm falling him before the main event. Everything that the cyborg killing machine had observed indicated that the Freedom Fighters were digging in and preparing to fight it out. This led him to believe that good ole Max was calling the shots. He knew enough of Sally to know that the princess would have staged an evacuation or some sort of rear guard maneuver that would have had his forces chasing ghosts through the Great Forest, and getting picked off from the shadows the whole time.

He realized that they were dug in, and that while his own losses would be quite heavy, he knew that engaging them in one location would be far more preferable to trying to hunt down a bunch of needles in a ten thousand square mile haystack. He held the greater edge in the coming battle despite the fact that defenders usually held a natural advantage over the attackers, and Knothole was certainly a defensible location. The trees were too close together for him to get in any heavy firepower like the Amracks hover tanks, and the canopy the trees had was much denser than it had been at Pinewood, far too dense for any form of close air support or troop deployments. This battle would be decided on infantry alone.

Robotnik was also not a fool, and he realized that the enemy was more skilled than his own forces, but he was confident that attrition was upon his side. They had never gotten an accurate count of how many Freedom Fighters had stationed in Knothole, but he knew that they were ridiculously outnumbered, and in a battle like this, numbers were often the deciding factor.

The primary viewing screen crackled to life, drawing the attention of both Overlanders who were present. Mecha was on the screen, his photoceptors glowing their usual crimson.

The android had been given a few additional upgrades in preparation for this attack. Attached to both of his wrists were a pair of gleaming vibro claws, something he had personally insisted upon after watching the brutal efficiency in which Norrack had used them upon the Freedom Fighters he had killed. His body had also had several heavier armor plates wielded onto it, reinforcing the protection of key systems. These would slow him down just a tad, but Julian figured it was better to have Mecha be a little slower than normal than risk a stray bolt taking him out of yet another battle.

Besides, with Sonic effectively removed from the enemy ranks, it wasn't as if anything those miserable rodents could bring to bear would even be close to matching the android.

"Final checks completed, sir," Mecha said, a fiendish flint coming into his photoceptors, "we're ready to move on your orders."

"Then get moving, Mecha," the overlord snarled, "every moment we delay is one more defense that the Freedom Fighters will have in place."

The android saluted, and then began to issue commands over his comm. system. Moments later, the Swat Bot army began to move out.

Julian smiled once more as he watched them march, every droid perfectly in step with the unit on its right and its left. They moved with a precision and unison that no organic army could hope to match. They were of one mind, one purpose, and nothing would stop them.

Robotnik rubbed his hands together as his grin grew even wider, his mind's eye filled with the visions of Knothole, smoldering and burning.

"This day marks the beginning of the end of their pathetic little rebellion!" he exclaimed, cackling like a mad man.

Snivley, back in the shadows, was ever the pessimist. Though he kept his thoughts silent as usual, and he couldn't deny that by every logical point of view, that the resistance's primary base was about to get ground into dust, he couldn't shake a nagging feeling in the back of his head that before all was said and done, something was going to go horribly wrong.

* * *

Mecha looked up into the sky. Appropriately enough, thunderheads boiled and rumbled, with flashes of lightning lighting the clouds up. A smirk came over his face as he marched at the head of the massive robotic army. He had been looking forward to this moment ever since his master had first brought him online, the moment when he might finally be unleashed upon those wretched organics who had humiliated and bested him for so long.

Well, it was time for them to find out just how well they could function trying to defend their home turf for a change.

However, his smile faded when he twisted around and gazed to the rear. Off on one side of the street, keeping himself separate from the rest of the troops, was Norrack. The android's processors burned with something that could only be described as jealousy as he looked upon the cyborg. Once, he would have thought himself above such a petty emotion. Now, though, as he stared at the ARC, he understood why it could be such a prevalent thing among biologicals. While Norrack might have had mechanical components within himself, Mecha couldn't ignore the fact that there was flesh in that body as well. As far as he was concerned, that made the ARC inferior to himself.

Yet Robotnik had still reserved the most important part of the mission for the cyborg.

Mecha bared his metallic fangs in a silent snarl, cursing the day that Norrack had been created. Still, the android thought to himself, the ARC trooper was going to be up against the best the resistance could throw at him, and it wasn't entirely unfeasible that he might get taken offline... permanently

* * *

The Mandalorian leaned back against one of the trees, continuing to watch the children as they kicked the soccer ball around once again.

If they had been brought up by his kind, they likely would have been practicing tactics and battlefield strategy, rather than playing ball. It was a very alien scene to him, one he had never fully gotten used to. Still, they were of an entirely different culture, so it was to be expected.

The young fox, the mutant one, ran by, dribbling the ball back and forth between his feet with expert control. This child held his attention as much as Amy did, for reasons that had initially been a puzzle to the old warrior. Something about the child had struck him as familiar, and he'd done a bit of asking about. He'd discovered the boy's name and the basic story of his arrival. There was no way to be absolutely certain, but he had that feeling, the gut instinct that a soldier developed after years of having to make educated guesses when intel came up short.

The child was the proper age, the story would have made some sense, and after all, how many two tailed foxes were there in this world?

Everything bit of information that he had pointed to one conclusion: this boy was Amadeus' son. If that was the case, then he owed the kit a great deal… a very great deal indeed.

At that moment, at that place, the old warrior vowed that he would watch out for the boy, and for Amy. Perhaps, by protecting them in the battle that was coming, he could atone for his past failures, those whose blood stained his hands.

As if to mock him, four people appeared in his mind's eye. Two of them were his species, a mother and her child. The former looked down upon the later, who giggled slightly and then jumped up upon her mother's shoulders, and spoke a few words in Mando'a. The mother responded in kind, before pulling the child off of her back and into a tight hug.

Next to them was a pair of timber wolves, the first was large, muscular and clad in silver armor. His arms crossed and a confident, crooked smile that reached all the way to his blue eyes on his face. At his side was someone that looked almost like a miniature version of him, a boy emulating his father in stance and smile.

A noise left his throat, one part snarl, one part sob, and he shook his head violently to try and clear the image from his mind. He couldn't change what had happened at Malachor, but perhaps the future would find him a more capable soldier.

* * *

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Okay, hope you found that chapter worth your while, and I apologize for concentrating so much on my OC, but I'm trying to flesh him out and attempt to make him more real, rather than a cardboard/cookie cutter style character that pops up in some stories.

With that in mind, any advice and comments are welcome, from constructive criticism, ideas on weapons or possible plot devices, flames, etc, are more than welcome.

Thank you all, and good night, or day, depending upon the time that you are reading this.


	10. A Heroic Stand, Part One

(Is seen with his back turned, waving a conductor's baton at his computer)

Pardon my musical disposition at the moment, but I've got a couple of themes stuck in my head from writing this chapter. The first being the 'underwater march' from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, the second one being the 'Battle of Hoth' from Empire Strikes Back.

At any rate, I want to once again extend my sincerest thanks to everyone who has read this story, especially to those of you who have reviewed. To those of you who have not, I once again offer my hopes that you have found this story to your liking.

To any and all lawyers reading this who happen to be hankering for someone to sue: I own nothing here save the few living OCs that still remain, thank you.

Now, for the part you've all been waiting for, the first part of the battle for Knothole.

* * *

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* * *

A Heroic Stand: Part One

They marched through the Great Forest in perfect formation, every metallic foot hitting at the exact same moment. They had a precision that nothing other than an army of machines could match. Those footsteps echoed through the air and sent vibrations through the ground that would have advertised the army's presence to even the most unaware of people, to say nothing of trying to hide a force that size.

The size, Heavens above the size, any Mobian who gazed upon them would have been hard pressed not to have his courage desert him at the sheer vastness of the army. At twenty five thousand strong, and spaced out as they were to minimize casualties in the event of a sneak attack, it was a half mile block of solid droid forces. While this might have been small compared to the truly legendary army sizes that were used in the Great War, often numbering millions strong, in a day and age where the sole option was guerilla warfare, it was huge.

Mecha couldn't help but smirk as he thought about what he was about to bring crashing down on the heads of those miserable little biologicals. With a thought, he extended his vibro claws, admiring his reflection upon them, which was provided by the sunlight that filtered down through the canopy. Oh, he couldn't wait for the battle to get started, so that he could rush the enemy lines, and then stain these beautiful and magnificent weapons with Mobian blood.

Not even the thought of Norrack could ruin his sadistic delight over the coming conflict. The ARC trooper had gone ahead of the main army, as he could move far faster than the Swat Bots could, and Robotnik wanted his cybernetic toy to be fully rested and ready to go when the time came. It was all the android could do not to chortle at the knowledge that the master's new plaything had to take time out for a little beauty sleep, yet another reason why it was inferior to him.

The dark army marched onward, trampling everything in their path as they moved steadily towards Knothole.

* * *

Sally exhaled slowly, a silent prayer in her mind as she slipped her command helmet on, booting up its systems. Slowly, they came online and once she was certain that everything was working properly, she grabbed her DC-19, her slug thrower, and her blade before she stepped outside.

Advanced scouts that had been deployed had reported that they'd spotted Robotnik's army, and that it was about fifteen or so kilometers away. Given the average Swat Bot marching speed, that gave them about two hours to work with. That time had not been wasted, as thirteenth hour defenses had been erected and minor changes made to those already in place, such as the Wraiths. With no sign of any Amracks tanks, about eighty percent of their fast attack craft had been fitted with Lexs, though four of them still had Nine-Ninety particle cannons on them just in case Julian tried to pull a fast one on them.

All of those people who were of fighting age were now wearing their armor and carrying their guns, and plenty of power packs and spare thermal detonators were in place in their trenches.

She hadn't gone far when she heard her name being called. Turning, she was not surprised to find her father approaching, a look of bafflement upon his face. She had to work hard to hide her smirk, as she knew without a shadow of a doubt in her mind what he was about to ask her about.

"Why are you dressed like that, Sally?" the king inquired, looking at her Nagai armor and her guns, a frown on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"I intend to do my part to repel Julian's army," she shot back, not bothering to keep a harsh tone out of her voice. "I don't think this plan of yours in going to work, but I'm not about to just sit back and watch from the sidelines as our people try to stand up to this nightmare."

King Maximilian looked flabbergasted to say the least. The original plan had called for the three royals, as well as the elderly and the children, to be in the command center, watched over by a group of twenty or so bodyguards, all of them armed with either flechette shotguns or vibro blades and shields. However, while Elias might have been directing the battle from there, Sally had had no role in it at all. As someone who was used to leading from the front lines and slugging it out with the rest of her people, she just could not stand for that.

"But…" her father began, but found himself unable to find the words he wanted to speak.

"I'm not going to just stand back and let my friends fight and," she struggled with the next word, "die, by themselves." She paused then, an intense glare coming into her eyes, which looked all the more intimidating behind the crimson tinted HUD visor. "Besides, daddy, you only need one heir to continue a bloodline, and since Elias is first in line, that makes me an asset… an _expendable_ asset."

Maximilian visibly flinched, having never imagined that his own words might be used against him like that. It truly hurt him to have them thrown in his face as Sally had just done, and he closed his eyes, lest his daughter see the pain that she had caused him. Silently, he turned and headed for the command center, his tail drooping, and his ears lowered.

For a moment, the princess actually wondered if she should have said those words to her father, but she quickly dismissed that notion. She could not take back what she had said, and there were more important things to worry about now. She then turned and headed for the center of the defensive lines. It was time to give the troops a moral boost, and to let them know of a little plan that she had cooked up.

* * *

Standing upon a somewhat tall rock, the princess gazed out at the five hundred or so soldiers that were gathered before her. She looked about, and picked out the people that she knew, her friends. Bunnie, Antoine, Rotor, Dulcy, and even Uncle Chuck were present, all battle armored and sporting weapons. Then there were the hundreds of others that she didn't know as well, but who still meant the world to her. They were her people, her responsibility, beings united together in a common cause, the dream of seeing their world restored.

How many would be dead in a few hours? She couldn't help but wonder. Indeed, would any of them live through the coming storm? Or would they all perish, being ground beneath Julian's tyrannical boot? She shook those morbid thoughts from her head a moment later. Death was going to be busy today, she knew that, but as of right now it was irrelevant. She licked her lips and prepared to give them a last minute pep talk, hoping that it would help them out.

"My brother and sisters," she said, for they were indeed like a large family in many ways, "in a short while, we're going to be fighting for our lives against Julian's Swat Bot army." She paused for a moment, swallowing before continuing. "I will not lie to you. This is going to be the single most dangerous threat that we have ever faced, and there is a very good possibility that we will not win. But I want you to know, that no matter what the outcome is, that even if we are all wiped out, our death's will not be in vain."

She had delivered the bad news, and now it was time to play her trump cards, one was some data relayed to them by a few bugs that Uncle Chuck had left running back at the capital, and the other was her plan, something she had done in secret and that no one else knew of, save for her closest friends.

"Julian has opted to err on overkill, and has sent nearly all of his forces out here to crush us. He thinks that with us dead and gone, with Knothole destroyed, that the fight for freedom will be destroyed as well." She told them, allowing for a grim smile to come over her face. "In this, our despotic oppressor has made a critical error, because he's left Robotropolis with a skeleton guard, less than a thousand Swat Bots remain to protect Robotnik's capital. Messages have been relayed to the other groups, and while we keep his army busy, they will be launching strikes against the city."

She could see soldiers in the crowd nodding as they began to comprehend where this was going, that they were to be a distraction in a grand and elaborate scheme, a decoy by which to keep the enemy occupied while others tried to cut Robotnik's feet out from underneath him.

"Regardless of whether we live or die today, my brothers, my sisters," she shouted balling her hand up into a fist and thrusting it up into the air, "our war will be won!"

A cheer went up that shook the forest, and she knew that she'd done it, managed to give them the inspiration that they would desperately need. Now, she knew, they would fight as one force, unified in mind, body, and purpose. The group dispersed after that, heading for their respective battle stations, with the exception of her friends and Uncle Chuck.

"Way to boost their morale, Sally," the mechanized hedgehog said, placing a hand on her shoulder, a faint smile upon his face.

The others voiced their opinions as well, all of them were proud of the way she had just conducted herself. The princess, trying her best to keep the tears out of her eyes, took a moment to embrace everyone, knowing that it might very well be the last time she ever did. With that, they too left, save for Bunnie, who looked at her best friend with no small amount of concern.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Sally girl," the cybernetic rabbit asked, a frown on her muzzle. "I mean, with your 'condition' and all?"

"Our people need to know that their leaders are with them in this Bunnie," she told her friend, her voice grave, as she was well aware that she could die, indeed, the chances were probably greater for her, as she was a high priority target. "Besides… if I don't make it… well…"

The ground squirrel choked up, unable to finish her sentence. Bunnie merely nodded, understanding what her friend was trying to say. She placed a sympathetic hand upon the princess' shoulder, before turning and heading off to where the garage was. Both Bunnie and Antoine were among the soldiers who would be piloting the Wraiths, and Sally hoped that if the time came, that those positions would enable them to get out of this alive.

As for herself, she turned about, and headed for the outer trench.

"That was quite a battle speech, princess," came a voice that caused her to look back over her shoulder.

Derrick was walking up beside her, his charric rifle held in one hand, his armor glistening as if he had taken the time to give it yet another good polishing.

"Heading for the front lines?" she asked a moment later, once she had recovered herself.

"Where else would I be going?" he responded, a bit of amusement in his aged voice. "But like I said earlier, you gave a good talk to your people."

"You really think so?" Sally asked.

"Yes, you didn't sugar coat things or try to delusion them into thinking that this victory would be easy," the former Death Watchman said, coming up beside her. "But at the same time, you let them know what any sacrifice they made would mean. That their deaths, should they be required, are not going to be for nothing." He paused abruptly, though he kept walking, and turned to look at her. "I'm not certain what this means to you, but I just want you to know that it's a shame that you're Mobian royalty, you'd have made a splendid Mandalore. I want you to know that I am honored to have a chance to fight under your command."

The words meant more to her than the old fox realized. The Mandalore, the unquestioned leader of the Mandalorians during a time of war; to be compared to one of them was the highest complement Derrick could have paid her. She nodded and thanked him, but something was troubling her about the old soldier.

"Is there something bothering you?" she asked, having a feeling that something was nagging at him.

"I just have a feeling of… well… I don't know quite how to describe it," Derrick muttered, looking down at the ground. "I guess I feel a lot like I did a Malachor, when I first gazed around and saw General D'Coolette's army, an army that was composed of four million soldiers."

"You mean something along the lines of impending doom?" she inquired, a slightly bitter tone to her voice.

"Yeah," he murmured after a moment, "that feeling you get, when you know that this is the one… that one fight that you're going to lose. It's not quite fear… more like, a resignation."

"You're not afraid to die?" Sally asked, cocking her head at him.

"I am a little scared," he admitted, "but I suppose that's nature for you. Besides, you can't be too attached to life; you've got to die sometime. As for myself, I'd rather go down fighting that wasting away in my later years. Anyways, when I do buy the farm, I won't be alone anymore."

She looked at him curiously, wondering if there was yet another side to this old warrior.

"My brothers and sisters in arms weren't the only thing I lost at Malachor, princess," he said, and she couldn't help but notice that he seemed slightly… choked up, for lack of a better term. "I lost my wife and daughter as well."

Sally was surprised, to say the least, she hadn't figured him for a family man.

"Jolee, my wife… she was part of the group next to mine… they were making good progress holding the lines, and they were even managing to push the king's army back. But then the soldiers called in an artillery strike…" he trailed off, and Sally could guess what had happened.

"What about your daughter?" she asked him, curious to know the whole story.

"Ahh, Brianna," he said, and the princess could tell by the manner of voice he was using that he was smiling behind his helmet, "she was a beautiful little girl. She was maybe a year or two older than you were, and she was the nicest thing… until you got her mad, in which case she was as ferocious as a malra. She had the most amazing blue eyes, pale, reminded us of the sky of our homeland… I never found out what happened to her, but I wouldn't give good odds on a five year old managing to survive out in the desert all on her own."

Sally at last thought she might have understood why the Mandalorian had apparently gone out of his way to save Amy. Perhaps it was his way of trying to balance the scales, to make up for the fact that he had been unable to save his own family. Two things still puzzled her, though.

"Derrick, how old are you?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. If his daughter had been just a little bit older than she was, and that had been fifteen years ago, then he must have been a great deal younger than she had originally thought.

"I'm fifty three," he responded, "I look a lot older, don't I?"

Sally merely nodded, having placed the Mandalorian somewhere in his mid sixties at first glace.

"That's what happens when you get involved with too many scraps and not enough downtime, princess, you get old much faster than you would normally." He sighed abruptly, looking up towards the sky. "I suppose that's why I'm telling you this."

"What do you mean?"

"With proper medical care, I might live another forty or so years," he said, and she nodded, as the average modern lifespan was about a hundred, "but I'm past my fighting prime. When you get old, you get slow, and slow soldiers are usually the first ones to die." He paused, before looking over to her. "If this is to be my last battle, I just want someone else to know that we weren't the heartless butchers your propaganda machines made us out to be. I want someone to know what we were really like."

The princess nodded somberly, as her second question was answered. General D'Coolette might have lost more than half of his army trying to wipe out the Mandalorians (and a good third of the survivors had either been so badly wounded that they would either never see combat again, or had been required to spend a lot of time in bacta tanks healing their injuries), but they, as a people and a nation, had effectively ceased to exist. All things must come to an end, this she knew, but no one ever thought they would be around to witness such an event.

By this time, they had reached the front lines, and they went their separate ways.

* * *

Bunnie looked about as she entered the garage, passing Rotor, who was heading out to the front, weapons and thermal detonators hanging off of bandoliers and webbing. The two of them exchanged a nod as they passed, before the cybernetic Mobian refocused her attention on the craft that she would be piloting. She looked up, and found to her surprise, that Gunter was to be her crewmate in this battle. The cougar had a grim smile upon his face as he ran his hands over the Lex in a manner that might almost be considered loving.

"We never got a chance to use anything like this back at Pinewood," he said, noticing her approach, "we never had any firepower this big… maybe… bah, what does it matter, "he snarled abruptly, "thinking about what ifs won't change the past."

Bunnie nodded gravely, as she realized that the fellow guerilla soldier was looking to get even with Robotnik for wiping out his friends and his home. Well, he would certainly have his chance; that much was evident.

The rabbit looked over, and saw Antoine already clambering into his Wraith. As if feeling her gaze upon him, he glanced over at her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, his azure eyes softened, the iciness in them melting for just a moment as he gave her a silent 'I love you.' Then the glare returned and he hopped inside, putting on his helmet before pulling the cockpit canopy shut, sealing himself off from the outside world.

Knowing that time was of the essence, Bunnie quickly imitated her boyfriend, hopping inside and running through the warm up procedures. Once she was certain that all systems were go, and that her helmet's comm. system was working properly, she sat back to wait. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Elias paced about in the command room, looking over the holographic readouts and such from the various sensors in place around their base. He was a little uneasy, as there was so much that could go wrong here, and if it did go wrong, he would be stuck in here, no way to get out there and assist. Still, someone had to direct everything, and that task had fallen to him. He and the others also had another very important task.

Huddled over in one corner of the room, sitting close to each other and trying to draw courage from that, were a group of about twenty or so children. Tails was among them, and the little kit was doing his best to put on a brave show for the others. Elias knew that the little guy was trying his best to emulate his brother, to show no fear in the face of the coming crises, and it brought a sad, somber smile to the prince's face to see it. Like all the others he knew, his sister, Sonic, Antoine, Bunnie, Rotor, it appeared as if the kit had been called upon to sacrifice his innocence, and step up to maturity far before he should have.

A sudden warbling noise drew everyone's attention to the primary holo table, and a voice came over their comm. channels.

"Base, this is peregrine," voice said, one of several 'scouts' who were hiding out in concealed nests on the outer parameters, ready to hose the incoming army with automatic weapons fire, "we have contact. Repeat enemy contact, inbound towards Knothole."

"How many?" Elias asked, walking over to the table.

"Not sure, sir, there's too many for us to count." came the uneasy reply.

That did not reassure Elias in the least. He slowly exhaled, hoping against hope he knew what he was doing.

"Hold your fire until they've engaged the rest of us," he informed them.

* * *

A spy eye gave the two Overlanders a magnificent view of the upcoming struggle. Julian laughed gleefully, his eyes glowing like two red suns as he watched. He had waited a very, very long time for this moment, and as the first ranks of Swat Bots and Hover Bots emerged from the forest and began to march closer to their organic enemies, he admitted, every setback, every delay, every plan foiled by a rebel group, had been worth it. Making it all the sweeter was the primary objective of this mission was going to be carried out by something that they had created to protect themselves.

Anyone who knew him well would tell you how much he loved irony.

He could see them now, the Mobians in their little defensive trenches, and the many heavy weapons pointed at his troops. It didn't bother him in the slightest. No matter how many he lost here, he could reassemble his army in a matter of weeks. The same could not be said of the Freedom Fighters.

"I've going to remember this moment till the day I die, Snivley," the overlord said, trembling with anticipation, and then, with hands that were so shaky he almost missed what he was aiming for, he pressed a large button on one armrest of his chair.

"Mecha, begin the attack!" he exclaimed.

"With pleasure, sir," the android said in response.

* * *

Sally licked her lips and shouldered her rifle. As the Swat Bots raised their integrated weapons, she gave the command.

"Open fire!" she screamed, sighting up her first target and letting fly at it.

She fired once, and the battle droid staggered backwards as it was nailed in the chest. The Deece kicked upwards slightly, and she fired again. A nice sized hole appeared where the bots photoceptor was, and it fell backwards, taken offline before it could even so much as get a shot off.

A mere millisecond behind her, the rest of the troops fired, and what might have passed for a wall of rainbow colored plasma bolts went flying at the mechanized army. Within moments, the front lines of Robotnik's army was mowed down, ripped apart by the savage fury of the Mobian guerillas, who were determined that they were going to give their enemies hell before they died.

Another wave came after that, and they met the same fate as their comrades before them. However, still the battle droids came, firing back at the defenders, trying to take them down, like an endless tide.

Sally kept shooting, torn between trying to pick her shots carefully and conserve her ammunition, and firing fast enough to keep the Swat Bots from swarming over them. She squeezed the trigger, and a burst flew from her rifle, ripping a trio of massive holes in her target's chassis, and it fell backwards, taking the bot behind it down with it.

A few feet away from her, a Mobian operating a Lex opened up, and a hail of blue plasma bolts went sailing towards a Swat Bot formation. Packing firepower that was capable of ripping its way through all but the heaviest of ferrosteel plating, the gunner behind the weapon scythed through the droids. In a matter of moments, the forty bot platoon had been reduced to scrap.

But while the princess felt some degree of satisfaction from watching the robots get ripped apart, she did not let that feeling show. This was like a gigantic chess match, and these were but the opening moves. They were all going to have to stay on their toes if they wanted to come out of this.

She ducked down suddenly as a squadron of the machines opened fired on her. Moments after she'd managed to get her head beneath the level of the trench, the bolts sailed overhead, two of them impacting against the top of the trench and showering her with charbroiled soil. Growling softly, the ground squirrel stood back up and fired off a couple of shots, double tapping a droid that was no more than seventy feet away from her. She redirected her aim slightly, and a few seconds later, another pair of Swat Bots were down, twitching out the remainder of their existence.

But the droid army was not the only one taking losses…

A soldier standing about five feet to Sally's left took a round, the plasma bolt catching him below the protective area of his helmet. The impact from the blast threw him backwards, where he slammed against the far side of the trench, and then slowly slid to the ground, his weapon falling from his grasp. The one bit of consolation the princess could take from that was that his death had been quick, clean… merciful.

A round slammed into her shoulder, but her Nagai combat suit held up. A second after that, she returned the favor upon the offending Swat Bot, though her aim was far better than the droid's had been, catching it in the neck, and decapitating it. The droid slumped to its knees before falling down, sparks from severed wires shooting out in place of blood.

After that, though, things became slightly more difficult. The droids were starting to break out of formation as their comrades were either removed from the equation, or as more troops coming in from the rear started to make it necessary for them to spread out and make room. As a result, the princess found herself having to spend more time shifting about to find a target than she otherwise would have. These were delays that she did not want or need, as ever second she spent searching for a target, rather than gunning one down, was one more second one of those targets could be using to sight her or someone else up.

Looking down her scope, she caught one right through its photoceptor, blowing the thing clean off of its feet. But it did little to stop the tide, as several of its comrades ran it over, crushing the remains down into the dirt, probably heedless of the fact that they were now marching over the bodies of the front line droids. All the while they kept firing, forcing more and more troopers to keep their heads down or risk losing them.

The princess shifted about just a bit, and spotted another formation heading in. Sighting up the lead Swat Bot, she opened fire. This squadron had not yet had time enough to properly deploy themselves, and the droids were fairly close together as a result. This most definitely did not work out in their favor, as it enabled her to mow them down with relative ease. In less than twenty seconds, the war machines were lying in various pieces, smoke rising from what was left of them.

The Deece vibrated harshly in her hands, letting her know that it was out of juice. Grunting, she thumbed the release, causing the weapon to drop the magazine. At the same time, she was ducking down beneath the trench and slamming a fresh power pack into her gun. She cycled the weapon, and then stood back up to resume firing.

By this time, some of the droids were getting so close that they were within about fifty feet of the trenches. This was a double edged sword for both the Mobian soldiers, and their mechanized opponents, for while the Swat Bots might have been closer, enabling them to fire more accurately, the same held true of their adversaries. It also enabled the Freedom Fighters to start throwing something else into the equation, quite literally.

Ducking down once again, Sally reached up to her chest, and yanked a thermal detonator off of the bandolier that she had on. She stood back up, and chucked it with all of her might at a dense formation of the machines. Her aim was true, and about three seconds after it hit the ground, the detonator went off. A small scale fusion reaction took place, and everything within seven meters was caught in the blast. Melted Swat Bot parts and burnt soil rained down, and this time, she did allow a grim smile to come to her face.

However, while she held little doubt that the explosion might have taken out a dozen or so of the battle droids, she knew that there were still many thousands more were those ones had come from, and that they were literally lining up to take their place.

As she dropped another one, though, something caught her eye, movement in the back of the forest. She realized what they were a moment later: more of the Swat Bots attempting to maneuver about and flank them. She knew that such an event was inevitable, but she still silently cursed as she saw it happen. However, there was little she could do about it, as she had slightly more pressing mater to deal with.

Such as a Hover Bot that had just come screaming in at them as she was attempting to reload her DC-19 again. Fortunately for her and everyone else, a barrage of Lex plasma fire knocked the thing from the sky before it could become a threat.

She stood up, taking aim once more at the tide of enemies that were charging towards them.

* * *

Elias watched the enemy army moving around, saw them trying to flank their positions, and swallowed hard, breathing deeply as he monitored the battle. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to give the order now, but he forced himself to wait and watch for the proper moment. The first waves of the bots were starting to pass through one of the minefields that they had set up. The mines lay dormant for the moment, awaiting a signal that would turn on their proximity detonators, and then allow them to unleash their destructive potential upon the battle droids.

About one minute passed, and then he knew enough were in the region that the maximum effect would be achieved. Snapping up, he twisted and turned to a technician setting at a control consol some twenty feet to his left.

"Activate the first minefield!" he barked, before returning his attention to the holo table, where the battle was playing itself out like some grand Shakespearian drama.

The technician nodded, before typing in a command at his station. A moment later, the encrypted signal went out. The mines received that signal, and their detonators went hot.

Those out on the front lines had the pleasure of watching Rotor's little devices in action. There was no loud explosion, none of the usual flare associated with an entire field of mines going off. Instead, what they saw were entire platoons of Swat Bots keel over and fall to the ground, some of them twitching, while others simply lay limp. Hover Bots were not spared either, and they crashed to the ground, burying themselves into the soft earth.

* * *

Julian couldn't help but blink as he watched the results. Hundreds of his soldiers had just been disabled. He knew that the Freedom Fighters had EMP mines at their disposal, as he remembered all too well what that one had done to Mecha, but he had never figured that they would be able to produce them on a large scale, and certainly not with the ability of laying waste to infantry.

"Clever maneuver," he muttered, rubbing his enormous chin. "I must make a note to see to it that my next generation of soldiers is not so vulnerable to this sort of thing."

Nonetheless, the droids pressed onwards, for while hundreds had fallen, many thousands still remained that had not even gotten close to the action yet.

* * *

Sir Charles felt that if he had still been flesh and blood that he would surely have been sweating. As it was, though, he simply gripped the E-11 blaster rifle in his hands with nervous anticipation, all the while trying not to crush it.

Rotor, Geoffrey, and the Mandalorian were with his group, all of them steely eyed and grim as they watched the formations marching towards their area of trench. Geoffrey already had his blaster rifle out, while Derrick appeared to be fiddling with a roughly rectangular device that was on the right arm of his armor. Rotor, meanwhile, was nervously fingering the two handle triggers of the Lex that he was manning.

"Just remember, Mando," Geoff growled out of the side of his mouth, "no one's going to go out of their way to cover you, so I hope you actually know how to fight."

"Just remember that you aren't wearing Mandalorian steel," the old warrior shot back, before slapping what appeared to be a magazine of some kind into the side of his arm mounted weapon.

"If it means I have to wear the skirt as well, then I'm glad that I ain't," the skunk retorted, smirking to himself, and getting a disgusted sigh out of the former Death Watchman.

"Would you two please stop fighting," Uncle Chuck snarled, "we're about to have trouble enough!"

Such was the authority of the old man that they promptly did so, Derrick opting to shoulder his rifle while Geoffrey steadied his bowcaster. Then they waited for the signal to open fire.

Rotor, though, couldn't help but envy Derrick just a tad. True, while the vast majority of the population wouldn't be caught dead in Mandalorian gear, their armor, especially the heavy assault armor that the elite soldiers like the Death Watchmen wore, was superior to the equipment that most of the others had. However, the production of their equipment was a closely guarded secret that had no really understood, and that had its drawbacks. For starters, Derrick's armor was not compatible with the various overlays and underlays that their armors had, which could offer anything from additional shielding against environmental extremes to making the armor more flexible. Even more problematic was his charric rifle, for while most of the weapons that had been produced by Zeo Matrix, Emeraude, LCC, and the rest of the mega corps before the war had gutted them had uniform power packs that could be fitted into any of their weapons. Derrick's were of a completely different make, and the Mandalorian knew it.

He had ten power packs for his rifle, at eighty shots a piece, after that, he was dry… and eight hundred plasma bolts would not be near enough if they got swarmed.

However, the walrus didn't dwell upon that thought for very long, as he had other things to worry about, like sighting up the foremost platoon of enemy soldiers as the order to commence firing came. And came it did.

As it had been with Sally's area, a veritable wall of blaster fire erupted from the trenches, and the first ranks of battle droids were completely obliterated. Rotor himself eliminated a good number of them, a brief squeeze of the Lex's triggers sending a burst of ten blue tinted plasma bolts speeding at an enemy platoon. Still, he knew that he had to be careful, as these cannons ran through their ammo like it was nobodies business. He would have to be careful not to waste his magazines.

There was also the slight issue of him being a high value target to the enemy, as a barrage that came flying in at him a moment later, skipping off of the dirt embankment at the top of the trench, and one or two off of the barrel of the Lex. Fortunately, it was a very well put together piece of machinery, and the shots skipped off with little damage to anything except the finish. In retaliation, he fired again, cutting four more Swat Bots down as they drew closer.

As soon as they hit the ground, more bolts left the barrel of the plasma cannon, speeding towards the encroaching enemy and striking them down. However, after that, the Hover Bots began arriving, and the walrus found himself having to devote a greater portion of his attention to bringing those flying menaces down, as they posed a much greater threat to the Freedom Fighter soldiers than the rank and file Swat Bots did, mostly due to the fact that they were packing heavier weapons and could move much faster.

Two of them came screaming over the ranks of the ground forces, barrel rolling out of the way of the fire that was sent up at them.

"Concentrate on the Swat Bots, those things are mine!" Rotor shouted, ducking down and pointing the barrel of his weapon skyward.

He lined up with the first of the two Hover bots, and pulled the triggers for his weapon, trying his best to nail his targets as the two robots darted about, maneuvering through the air and firing down upon the soldiers in the trenches. Three were hit by the fire, and two of them dropped, holes steaming in their bodies. The third soldier fared a little better, though her armor took quite a beating. Snarling in defiance, Rotor unleashed the destructive power of his Lex, though he was still using his mind, analyzing the situation despite the boiling rage he felt at watching comrades die.

One of the Hover Bots remained mostly stationary, while the other one looked as if it was about to dart over to a new area to wreak havoc there. Suddenly, a solution presented itself to him, and a wicked grin came over his normally clam face as he fired at the one that was about to move. It had just activated its thrusters when the burst fire caught it, disabling on of the engines. The droids couldn't compensate in time, and the offset thrust propelled it straight into its wingman, destroying them both in a rather large fireball.

He ducked instinctively to avoid any shrapnel that might have been forthcoming, and then turned the plasma cannon back upon the encroaching Swat Bots, before using the Lex to begin scything through them as a farmer would wheat.

"Kandosii, Walrus!" he heard Derrick shout as he took out another group of enemies, making certain to keep a vigilant eye upon his ammo counter.

He had no idea what the Mandalorian had just shouted to him, but he was certain that it was a compliment, given the nature in which it was used. However, before he could respond in kind, his right shoulder suddenly grew hot, and he was knocked backwards as he felt as if someone had struck him with a baseball bat. He hit the back of the trench and slid down, before turning to examining what had happened. The portion of his combat suit's shoulder pauldron that wrapped around to his chest had taken a bolt, and now glowed a orange reddish color as it tried to dissipate the heat it had absorbed. There was a slight tingling sensation from his flesh, but he knew that the burn wound was superficial.

With a grunt, he got back up and manned his position once more, promptly mowing down an entire squadron that had been attempting to close in on them.

However, his fire wasn't the only heavy weapons being brought to bear.

A whining noise split the air and he took a brief moment to look back over his shoulder.

The Wraiths had been unleashed, and were now using their own Lexs to cut down Robotnik's mechanized army.

It was all he could do not to whoop as one particularly bold pilot shot his craft right over the outer trench, running out past the perimeter defenses long enough to bulldoze through an enemy platoon, before swerving back across the line to get out of the way of any friendlies who were trying to fire as well.

* * *

Mecha stood at the edge of the forest, watching the battle rage. For the moment, he knew that his troops were being taken out by the dozens, while only a few of the blasted organic soldiers had fallen. That would change in a little bit, once he entered the picture. However, there was something that needed to be taken care of first.

As soon as he saw the vehicles come out to the front, a fiendish smile came over his visage, and his eyes began to glow as he anticipated his first kills. All that needed to be done was for those light assault craft and pillboxes to be removed from the picture.

"Assault Bots, move into position!" he snarled.

From the far edge of the forest, a battalion of specially armed Swat Bots moved in, carrying in their arms a weapon far more dangerous than the standard integrated wrist blasters.

The Jackhammers they were totting were about to begin the next phase of the battle.

* * *

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Okay, there's a good stopping point… yes, I'm evil for leaving a cliffhanger like that, you don't have to tell me.

At any rate, I hope this chapter has proven worthy of your time and effort, and that the action was good. Also, as per usual, any ideas, comments, constructive criticisms, flames, advice, etc. are welcomed with open arms.

Also, I would particularly like ideas on how to fit Dulcy into this equation, as I am coming up short. I know Dragon's have thick hides, but I'm not sure how well she'd fare with this many Swat Bots taking shots at her. So if anyone has a helpful hint or idea, let me know, thank you. (bows)

That said, have a great day, and I hope to see you soon.


	11. A Heroic Stand, Part Two

Hello again to you people, and I hope this update finds you in good health. Been rather busy lately, between school prep, work, and attempting to research stuff for this story and my other one (Thank you Eric Nylund, your First Strike novel has been invaluable in that respect).

For those of you who have read, and especially those of you who have reviewed, as usual, you have my thanks, and I hope that I can continue to please.

On another note, some have wondered what Derrick said to Rotor in the last chapter, and I apologize for not posting a translation. "Kandosii" is a Mando'a word that translated literally, means 'noble.' However, it has several slang uses that are basically along the lines of 'good job, sweet, classy, or awesome.' From now on, for any words he says that are not obvious in their meaning, I will post a translation at the end of the chapter.

Lawyers: I own nothing, so no suing me!

Here's chapter eleven, hope you like it.

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* * *

A Heroic Stand, Part Two

Sally knew that there was a problem just as soon as Elias radioed in and informed her that three of their outpost machine gun nests had just been eliminated. More importantly, that they'd been eliminated so quickly that they hadn't even had time to call in and report what was being thrown at them. For a brief moment, she wondered if Norrack had been unleashed. However, she quickly shook that possibility from her head, as amid the carnage of the battlefield, she saw what had brought about their destruction.

"Assault Bots!" the ground squirrel shouted, a warning to her fellows to both take cover, and to take those buckets of bolts out before they could cause too much damage.

An Assault Bot was a rarely seen member of Robotnik's armed forces, mostly because they were ill suited for most urban defense tasks. They were slower than the standard units, but had much heavier armor, and they essentially functioned as mobile missile launchers, and the princess knew what they could do if they weren't checked, and quickly. The Jackhammers that they carried were yet another weapon that had come from the Great War, and it was actually more effective in the hands of the clanking battle droids than it was in a Mobian's. This was mainly due to the nature of the weapon.

Officially designated the M41 SSM, the Jackhammer was a double barreled rocket launcher. Its ammunition was a pair of eighty millimeter shaped charges that were loaded up into a single unit which rotated after the first shot was fired, and the rockets themselves came in two varieties. The first was a more traditional anti infantry device, which could be easily identified by the somewhat 'pineapple' type look that it had. This resulted in a far weaker shell surrounding the explosive charge, meaning that less force was required to shatter it, and as such, that the explosion would carry the shrapnel much farther at a much higher velocity.

The other variety was a little more high tech and exotic. This one was designed for anti armor and anti vehicular roles. The rocket had a more conventional shape, though there was an extra addition to the front, a sensor package that could detect energy emissions and allow for the missile to actually lock onto a target if that emission was large enough. The guidance packages weren't foolproof, but you had to be good, very good, to avoid getting nailed by them. Furthermore, the detonator was set further back in these ones, which enabled them to actually penetrate the target to a degree before they detonated, allowing for much greater destructive capacity.

The drawback of the weapon was the sheer size of it, a daunting meter or so in length, making it nearly three quarters as large as any Mobian attempting to carry it, and the sheer recoil factor from the missiles meant that in order to avoid being blown off their feet or having an arm ripped out of the socket, a trooper would have to take a knee, making him rather vulnerable if he didn't shoot fast. Assault Bots, with their greater strength, size, and weight, didn't have that problem, and could fire on the move.

The first ranks leveled their weapons and began to spread out, and Sally's eyes widened behind her visor. Frantically, she fired her Decee at one of them. The plasma bolts were on target, and they connected with the bot's chassis. The battle droid fell to the ground with an audible thud, its weapon now resting harmlessly upon the dirt.

She was not the only one to bag a kill, either, but even though many of the mechanized soldiers were disabled or destroyed, there were still more waiting to take their shots. A second later, Sally knew their time was up, as the loud 'phwooshing' noise of scores of Jackhammer rockets being launched attested to.

Instinctively, the ground squirrel threw herself flat in the trench, a move that would save her life. Moments after she had done that, explosions rocked her world, and the bone jarring impact of the missiles, combined with the hellish backwash of the ensuing explosions, washed over her. Still, she did not rise, but stayed prone as she was, hunkering down even further, if such a thing were possible. This was not due to any form of cowardice or the like, but merely prudence and experience. A Jackhammer needed about a second and a half for the other barrel to rotate around into the firing position, and she knew the Assault Bots were probably already taking aim at their next set of targets.

Sure enough, about three seconds after the first impact shockwaves had hit her, she heard another volley of rocket fire being thrown at her people. Explosions and screams filled her ears after that, and she didn't even want to think about what she would see when she poked her head back up. Nonetheless, she knew that she had to.

The sight that met her eyes was horrifying.

Scorched earth radiated outward from impact craters and areas where the defensive trenches forward cover had been completely blown away. Intermingled among them were the bodies of at least three dozen Mobians, and things that the princess could only assume had been Mobians at one point in time. Even worse were the ones who had been caught in the fireballs and somehow managed to survive, though there wounds were doubtlessly mortal. They failed about, their armor melted to their flesh by the intense heat, their shrapnel wounds cauterized, blood encrusted upon their blackened flesh. Their mouths were open and from them came screams that chilled her blood.

She shook her head, tried her best to drown out those agonized cries, and focus upon the enemy. Assault Bots had a pair of reloads that they had upon their backs, four more missiles to send in at Knothole's defenders.

As she yelled into her mike, calling for Wraith support, the ground squirrel reached up to her vest once more, yanking off another of her thermal detonators, before activating it and letting it fly towards the reloading battle droids. This was followed swiftly by a second, and the twin explosions ripped a good number of the Jackhammer carrying machines to pieces. Still, many remained, and they were already getting the launcher pods off of their backs, loading them into the firing mechanism, strafing about and moving all the while. Heedless of the fact that it was a massive amount of ammunition compared to what she might achieve, she flipped the switch on her DC-19 down to fully automatic fire, and proceeded to hose to enemy, trying to get enough fire into the air to prevent a second volley from being launched.

The soldiers to her left and right, the ones who had survived, were right beside her, and more droids fell, holes torn through their armor and their vital circuitry in shambles, falling to the ground.

For six seconds the princess fired like this, many of her ninety shots going wide of the mark, but enough damage was done to cut the Assault Bots' numbers in half.

Still, it had not been enough, and while it would be diminished and not quite as dangerous, they would still face a second volley. The heavy battle droids leveled their Jackhammers once again, and once more, Sally threw herself to the ground, a silent prayer upon her lips that the damage would not be as great.

Her prayers would be answered, as a loud, but very welcomed sound reached her ears: the high pitched whine of Wraiths speeding towards them at maximum velocity.

She looked up, and saw the assault craft speed over the trenches, their forward blasters and their LEX-275s firing away at the enemy, and in the next few seconds, the air was filled with the sounds of plasma bolts and rocket fire. After things got a little quieter, she dared to look up for a brief moment, ready to drop back down at the slightest hint of a missile being launched her direction, and felt, for a brief moment, relief sweep over her. Most of the Assault Bots had been scrapped by the Wraiths' overwhelming anti-infantry fire. Some of the battle droids had managed to get a Jackhammer or two up in the air, but judging by the impact craters and the slightly dented and charred side of one of the light assault craft, they had been the anti infantry rounds, not the ones designed to take out armor.

The Wraiths turned around, their forward blasters strafing the enemy lines until they were no longer facing them, while their gunners continued to send plasma fire back at the Swat Bots and Hover Bots until they were out of range. As they shot by, Sally noticed that Bunnie was behind the controls of one of the crafts, and she gave her friend a thumbs up. She wasn't certain if the cybernetic Mobian had seen it or not, but she didn't have time to dwell upon it. Nor did she cheer at the destruction of the Assault Bot platoon, for screams of the dying still rang upon her ears, and she knew that this battle was far from finished.

After pausing to reload her weapon yet again, she looked around, scanning for more targets. She didn't have to look long and hard to spot another platoon of battle droids trying to make and advance. Switching her firing mode back to semi automatic, she began to fire upon them, cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

Once again, though, for every one she destroyed, more were ready to take its place.

Still, she wasn't about to let that bit of grim news stop her from bringing as many of these buckets of bolts down as she possibly could.

* * *

Tails looked about from the corner he was sitting down at in the command hut. He wasn't stupid, and knew what was going on, what they were up against, and he knew what their odds of winning were.

He took no comfort in the presence of the twenty elite guards, or in everything else that the enemy would have to come through to get to him, he still felt fear gnawing at his gut.

His big brother had once told him that he got scared all the time, and that courage was being brave enough to still act in spite of that fear, to put your life on the line for what you believed in despite the fact that you might very well pay the ultimate price.

If that was the case, then the young kit was determined to make Sonic proud, and he did his best to put on a brave front for the other children. Amy seemed particularly worried out of all of them, and the young fox figured that must have been because she'd been through this sort of thing before. Deep down, for a brief instant, he thought about what it would be like to watch everyone you knew and loved, everything you'd ever known snatched away from you.

That thought triggered more, some that had always confused him. They were… half memories… for lack of a better term. Quick, split second flashes of something else, of people and places he could no longer truly recall. Sounds of battle, of people screaming, one voice roaring in defiance...

Vaguely, distantly, Tails could hear Elias calling for the activation of the second mine field, and he knew that meant the enemy had partially surrounded them. Furthermore, it also meant that there was but a single field left, the one that ran around the western of the village.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump, and the hut seemed to shudder for a moment. Most of the other children suddenly yelped, and huddled ever closer, wondering what had happened. Tails deduced by the fact that the door wasn't knocked down by a platoon of Swat Bots immediately thereafter, that it had probably been a stray rocket or plasma cannon round that had connected with the exterior. Still, it meant that the enemy was getting closer.

Courage, he reminded himself. He might be afraid of what was going to happen, but he would not let that fear show.

* * *

"That felt good," Gunter growled, smirking as he gazed at the destruction that he and his pilot had left in their wake.

"Don't be celebrating to soon, Gunter," came Bunnie's voice over the comm. channel that they were sharing. "We've still got plenty more where those ones came from."

"The more the merrier," was the cougar's reply to her, laced with such venom that the rabbit was actually taken aback for a moment, and suddenly she began to worry if the other guerilla's desire to avenge his slain squad was beginning to cloud his judgment.

She didn't dwell upon that for very long though, as she and the others soon had another call from the entrenched soldiers, once again asking for a Wraith to come and save their bacon. Stomping down on the accelerator, she zoomed towards the distress call, an indicator on her electronic map telling her that it was coming from the southern flank.

When she and her two wingmen arrived at the scene, it was evident that things were going down the chute very quickly here. Assault Bots were tearing into this area of the outer defenses, as many a smoking crater indicated. Lining up with the column of heavy battle droids, the cybernetic rabbit narrowed her eyes and depressed her thumb trigger. The rotary cannons set into the front of the Wraith began to turn, and then spat blue streams of plasma fire at the formation, which was apparently lining up for another volley at the beleaguered defenders. Gunter and her two wingmen opened up as well, destroying many of the droids before they could get a shot off.

She had no way of knowing, right then, though she would later curse herself for her carelessness, but this is exactly what was supposed to happen. In a way, the smoking remnants of the two pillboxes might have clued her in if she hadn't been so focused on saving her comrades.

The Assault Bots towards the back, the ones that had been protected by the staggered formation of their comrades, suddenly turned their Jackhammers towards the vehicles, and a loud warbling noise suddenly erupted inside of the cybernetic Mobian's cockpit, a red light flashing as well to accentuate the point.

"Oh my Goddess," Bunnie gasped, her eyes going wide as she realized the droids were carrying anti armor rounds, and that from the readings, she had no less than four rocket launchers locked onto her right now. "Evasive action!" she screamed, jerking hard on the control sticks, trying to turn back and get out of the lock-on range of the launchers.

But it was too late by then, and the Assault Bots fired, and she frantically swerved to try and lose them.

Had it been just one missile, she could have simply cut the power to her Wraith, and used her coasting momentum to maneuver out of the way as the guidance package's reading went cold and it became like a dummy fired round. Unfortunately, with four, such an option was out of the question, but she would likely coast to a stop right in the path of one of the other Jackhammers. So she kept the accelerator to the floor, trying to buy as much time as she possibly could before the missiles hit her.

Desperately, she yanked on the control sticks, causing the light assault craft to twist about and nearly fishtail out of control before she pulled her Wraith into a turn that approached ninety degrees. Fortunately, not only was she able to maintain control, but the abrupt turn even threw the first of the missiles off her tail, as its greater speed meant that it was unable to compensate for the abrupt change in the direction of its target in time. It slammed into the ground, detonating a moment later.

The rabbit scarcely took note of that, as she still had three more to deal with. Much to her relief, though, Gunter was up to the task of giving his pilot a hand, as he turned the Lex plasma cannon upon the missiles, completely destroying one of them with a two second burst of fire, before targeting the next one. He wasn't able to take this one down, but a couple of his shots did take out the sensor cone on the front of the rocket, which made it relatively simple to evade the Jackhammer. The cougar's actions also gave Bunnie an idea for getting rid of the final one.

Slamming on the breaks and twisting her controls, she twisted the Wraith around, all the while keeping her thumb upon the trigger for the rotary cannons. As soon as she was lined up, she threw her craft into reverse, trying to keep enough distance between herself and the final rocket so that she could unleash her weapons systems upon it.

It seemed to take an eternity for the plasma fire to finally start coming out of the end of the barrels, and all the while the missile had come closer, filling up her field of vision like some grisly manifestation of Death's finger. Not a moment too soon, the two streams of plasma fire came forth, filling the air between her and the Jackhammer. Weaving back and forth as necessary, she left no room for the rocket to maneuver, and it plowed straight into the blue bolts, exploding harmlessly.

But the rabbit could take no comfort from her triumph, for this position also gave her a nearly front row view of her two wingmen. They would not be as fortunate as her.

One of them swerved to the left, trying desperately to throw of the tracking devices that were homing the missiles in on him. His efforts, though valiant, would be in vain though, as the first one slammed into the side of his light assault craft, blowing out a repulsor lift and throwing it up on its side. It hit the ground hard, skidding across grass and dirt at more than three hundred kilometers per hour, leaving a scar upon the land. The last thing the rabbit saw was the pilot frantically wrestling with the controls, and his gunner hanging on for dear life, before the remainder of the Jackhammers hit home.

There was a split second of realization that no doubt came over the two guerilla soldiers as they heard the resounding thumps of the armored warheads hitting the bottom of the Wraith, before the delayed detonators went off. The Wraith became a fireball after that, a resounding explosion that Bunnie could hear even through the armored glass canopy of her cockpit. The ball of crackling flames soon became a mushroom cloud, thick, oily smoke filtering up through the forest canopy. The cybernetic Mobian prayed that Death had claimed those two soldiers quickly, she dared not imagine what burning to death like that might have been like.

The other didn't fare much better. The pilot managed to evade the first three missiles, but the last one was too close. Bunnie would never know if what happened next was an instinctive mistake on the part of the gunner, or a valiant sacrifice to try and keep the Wraith intact. The girl manning the Lex fired on the missile, heedless of how close it was. Her aim was true, and the Jackhammer exploded. While the fireball was well out of range, the shrapnel was not, and Bunnie saw what looked like dark clouds of dirt and earth go flying from the back of the gunner. She knew it wasn't dirt though, and the dying Freedom Fighter shot off a couple more rounds as her life twitched out, before slumping against the harness that she was in.

"Fierfek!" the pilot swore, having no doubt figure out what had just happened, and Bunnie could detect a slight crack in the voice, making her wonder if the two had known each other. "What now, ma'am?"

"Find yourself another gunner," Bunnie snarled, rage about the whole Goddess be cursed situation filling her, threatening to overwhelm her. "You're not much use to us without one!"

"Yes ma'am," the other soldier said, voice quiet as he streaked towards a section of trench, stopping next to the soldiers there, hoping that one of them would be willing to hop out of the trench they were defending and give him a hand.

Bunnie and Gunter were already headed off to another area, as countless calls for support came in as the Swat Bots closed in from all around.

* * *

Two precise shots and a Swat Bot fell back, its photoceptor forever going dark. The Mandalorian that had been responsible for it paused only long enough to ensure that it was not getting back up before sighting up another target, and firing at it. That battle droid was also eliminated, and a vibration from the charric rifle indicated that its power cell was empty.

Derrick thumbed the release button, and as the cell fell out of the bottom of the rifle, he reached down and caught it with his left hand, while spinning the rifle over with his right. He reached down to his belt, placing the empty cell back into its holder, snapping down the cover over it, and retrieving the cell to the right of that one so quickly that it looked like a single blurred motion. It wasn't really that difficult to do, considering that he'd been reloading in a manner such as this for the past forty nine or so years. Still, he thought as he finished reloading, he had once been able to do it faster than that.

He flipped his rifle again, bringing it up against his shoulder and leveling it at his mechanized opponents, before firing off another pair of shots, once more succeeding in laying low a battle droid.

He heard a snarl next to him, and saw the roboticized hedgehog, Sir Charles the others had called him, hurling a thermal detonator at a group of bots that had made the mistake of standing too closely together.

In many ways he envied the old scientist. The people around him only saw the negative side effect of the robotization process, and it was true that there were a great many, the removal of free will at the top of that list. But Sir Charles also held a number of advantages over his organic allies. He didn't get tired, didn't feel pain in the same way that the Mandalorian did, and age did not in any way hamper his ability to fight.

Derrick scolded himself for a second, knowing that now was not the proper time for such thinking, and continued to fire at the nearest enemy. He was worried about the course this fight was taking, as he had already expended a lot of firepower at the enemy. He was currently on his fourth energy cell, and he knew that at best, they had only managed to eliminate about one fifth of the enemy units. If things continued as they were, he would run out of ammo long before this battle was over.

For a moment, he considered switching over to the micro-pulse pistol that he had hidden under his kama. The small hold out weapon ran off of a specialized pulse cell that had a self sustaining half life of about a hundred odd years. This meant that it would not be running out of ammo anytime soon, but there was a slight tradeoff. The pistol took a few seconds to recharge itself, and the former Death Watchman was not certain if it packed enough stopping power to drop the Swat Bots in an efficient manner.

No, he decided, he'd save that little surprise for later, when he might really need the tricks he had hidden up under and inside of his armor.

He'd save his final three packs if it came to that, and use a blaster rifle like the ones his comrades were. He wasn't exactly certain how good he'd be at using them, as he'd never trained with rifles of that variety, but live fire situations were sometimes the best times to learn.

And, he thought grimly as out of the corner of his eye he saw a Mobian soldier miss-time the enemy, and hop up from behind the barricade just in time to take a plasma bolt through the throat, there were plenty of them just lying around at the moment.

He sincerely wished that there was another Mobian here right now: Sonic. His reasons were two fold, the first was the practical observation that the hedgehog could have ripped through a good number of the enemy, considering how close they were, and how fast he could move. The second one was that he simply wanted to see him in action. He'd heard stories, but he wasn't certain how much truth there had been to them, as such tales of heroes tended to grow with the telling.

Hero. It was such a foreign concept to him, to any Mandalorian. They had no heroes; indeed, the word did not even exist in Mando'a, though they had a dozen different words for 'stab' and twenty different ways of calling you a coward. The old soldier believed that the best term he could have applied to the Freedom Fighter would be _jatne verd, _best warrior. Regardless of what he had been called, Derrick just wished that he could have had the chance to work along side him, to see such a magnificent example of a soldier as he went to work on his foes.

All of this was in the back of his mind, though, as he couldn't afford to be distracted for even a second. Nonetheless, though, even an alert warrior could be taken by surprise, as a bolt slamming into the side of his helmet a moment later attested to. Fortunately for Derrick, his _buy'ce_ was up to the task of protecting his head. Indeed, while the fully enclosed helmet might be uncomfortable at times, the extra armor did a good job ensuring that nothing bad befell that extremely vital body part.

Nonetheless, the impact still made him feel like someone had popped him upside the head with a set of brass knuckles, and it took him a second to shake the cobwebs from his mind, and get back to firing at the Swat Bots. Looking around, he quickly spotted the offending machine, in the midst of a cluster of its fellows that were threatening to overwhelm the defenders of the trench about a hundred or so feet down the line.

The former Death Watchman quickly stuck his right hand out, twisting his rifle to where it was no longer in the way, and pressed a button on the inside of the forearm plate. There was a hiss, and a small projectile came out of the opening, streaking across the battlefield and hitting the war machine. It was enveloped in a good sized explosion that went for about five meters in every direction, taking out a good number of its fellows as well.

The weapon he'd just used was known as a buster rocket, and it was his people's answer to the thermal detonator. It was slightly more potent than a thermal, didn't have the delayed fuse that could enable an enemy to get out of the way in time, and you could certainly shoot it farther than someone could chuck a detonator. That extra speed also made them very hard to dodge. However, the tradeoffs were that you had to use line of sight with them, you couldn't bounce them off of walls or throw them over obstacles like you could with a grenade.

Those, too, he had but a limited supply of, two clips of five, so he had to reserve them for tightly clustered groups or other such emergencies.

A flash of light out of the corner of his eye caused him to drop to the ground, and he knew he'd just avoided having his helmet clipped by another plasma round. Popping back up, he quickly disposed of the nearest Swat Bot, and its closest fellow.

But it was like removing a bucket of water from an ocean, for all the good it seemed to do. The enemy was closing in upon them too quickly for the guerilla soldiers to destroy them all.

There was a tingling feeling in the Mandalorian's gut, the feeling that, at least for him, history was about to repeat itself.

He snarled in defiance behind his helmet, vowing that even if this turned into another Malachor for him, that he would take as many of these blasted trash compactors down with him as he possibly could. His honor demanded nothing less, his memories demanded nothing less… his people, would demand nothing less.

And so he kept shooting, ignoring the casualties that continued to mount, as soldiers to his left and right fell to the encroaching enemy.

* * *

Mecha surveyed the data that was being fed back to him, and smiled. Many of the Freedom Fighter pillboxes had been eliminated, and a good third of their vehicles were now burning wreckage.

Their causalities had been rather heavy thus far, but he knew that the Mobian's were taking losses as well, and that they were going to run out of ammo sooner or later.

It was enough for him, he had waited years for this moment, and now that most of the threats had been eliminated, he was all but howling for blood.

With a primal roar that would have been far more appropriate for some sort of large predator, Mecha launched himself at the enemy lines.

They saw him coming, of course, give how much he stood out. However, seeing something like Mecha coming at you, and doing something about it were two very different matters. A pair of Lexs were trained upon him, blue fire coming at him, but the android merely jumped and rolled about as he shot towards them at triple digit speeds, cackling all the while.

Moments later, he was upon them, and those who had never encountered Mecha before suddenly knew why he was so feared.

Normally, he would have used the plasma blasters built into his upper arms, but he so longed to use his vibro claws that he decided to break with tradition. Leaping full speed into a trench, the android extended his weapons, smiling at what he was about to do.

The closest soldier leveled an E-11 plasma rifle, and actually managed to snap off a shot. However, the bolt merely impacted upon the reinforced armor plating the android now sported upon his chest. A wicked smile upon his face, Mecha jetted forward, the claws on his right hand leading the way, while the ones on his left were cocked back for a ferocious overhand strike.

The leading attack caught the Freedom Fighter's rifle right across the barrel, cutting the weapon cleanly in half. At the speed at which his processors moved, Mecha couldn't help but gazed for a split second in admiration of the claws he now sported, the ease in which they shredded metal. A quarter of a second later, he also discovered how easily they rended flesh, as he brought the other set down across the soldier's chest, nearly splitting him wide open. The mortally wounded Mobian, a feline, tried to cry out, but all that came from his lips was blood, and he fell to the dirt, his life fluid spilling out upon the soil, staining it dark.

The android paused for a moment to admire his first kill with his new devices, and then he set himself upon the rest.

Lined up as they were in the trench, they were easy prey for the fast moving robot. What certainly wasn't helping them was that in a scenario where both people were armored, up close, the person with the blade beat the guy with the blaster, as rifles did not make good shields.

With a feral roar, Mecha brought his vibro claws down in an 'X' shaped motion, cleanly decapitating the soldier who was in front of him. The body hadn't even hit the ground when the android vaulted over it, coming down in front of the soldier behind him. By now, though, the mechanized duplicate of Sonic was finding his going to be a tad more difficult, as the guerilla soldiers were becoming more and more prepared for him. However, he still held every confidence that he would destroy his adversaries, no matter what preparations they took.

But, what happened next was something he had forgotten to figure into his calculations. The canine in front of him threw down his rifle, and Mecha began to leap forward, figuring that the soldier's courage had deserted him, and that he was about to try and make a break for it.

However, much to Mecha's surprise, the organic soldier did not leap away, but rather towards him. The Freedom Fighter came in low, catching the android off guard and slamming him into the ground. For a brief second, the robot hesitated, and that was nearly the end of him. He hadn't been able to figure out what the soldier was hoping to accomplish, but then he realized it probably didn't matter. In a growl that was distorted by his digitized voice, he slammed his right hand claws into the dog's guts, twisting cruelly before ripping them out. Still, he was unnerved by the smile on the dying man's muzzle.

Almost too late, he heard the beeping noise, and realized that the canine was opting for a kamikaze route, having activated a thermal detonator while he had been getting eviscerated. Knowing that he had only seconds, Mecha threw himself backwards, propping his feet underneath the torn abdominal cavity of the suicidal trooper, preparing himself for his only option. He then used his momentum and robotic strength to kick the soon to be corpse as far away from him as he possibly could.

But the timer was to close to detonation for the body to get all the way away, and Mecha caught some of the blast. A warning sound came from inside of his metal head as his temperature gauge spiked, and it was all he could do not to let out an electronic cry of pain as he felt his skin grow hotter than any organic creature could have withstood. For a split second, he could see nothing but a white ball of fire, and his subroutines quickly began running, trying to calculate his odds of surviving this blast.

Miraculously, at about the same time that the calculations were finished, the fireball passed, leaving Mecha standing, though noticeably charred, his blue and golden frame now streaked with blackness in several regions. Needless to say, realizing the damage that had been done, and knowing that the blast probably would have destroyed him if not for the extra armor that he was wearing at the moment, did not help Mecha's temperament in the slightest.

Snarling, he continued his rampage, determined to make every single one of the blasted meat bags pay dearly for what they had just done to him.

* * *

"Our causalities are too heavy, sir, we've got to fall back!" came the voice of a soldier over the comm. link that Elias had on.

Looking down at the holo table, staring at the rapidly collapsing eastern flank, the prince knew that the man on the other end of the line was correct. There were just too many Swat Bots, they were being overwhelmed by the sheer mass of battle droids being thrown at them. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to shoot an accusing glare over at his father, but thought better of it, knowing that he had more important things to do.

"Give the signal," he ordered to the techs behind him, "tell the soldiers along the eastern flank to fall back to the inner defenses, and be quick about it!"

"Sir!" the other Freedom Fighters replied, before sending the command on down to the defenders.

Elias almost despaired then, knowing now that it would take a miracle for them to get out of this mess, let alone snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Now that one of their flanks was collapsing, Robotnik's mechanized army would spearhead into that gap, trying to blow open a massive hole in their ranks.

There was probably only minutes left before the enemy penetrated the command hut, and he knew that something had to be done, but what? Oh how he wished his sister were here, Sally had always been better at planning than he had. Still, she was busy trying her best to hold the enemy off on the northern edge of the fighting.

He stared intently down at the battle zone, and then he saw it. They had one minefield left, along the western edge of the village. That would be it, the way that they got out of this. They would lose Knothole, but that was inevitable at this point in time, and villages could be rebuilt. Still, he had to wait for the opportune moment, or else even that minefield wouldn't save them.

* * *

"Fall back, fall back!" Sir Charles shouted out to the others, frantically trying to get them all out before the Swat Bots were upon them.

Indeed, that was nearly the case, as what look like an endless tide of black battle droids advanced upon them. The only thing that was keeping them back at the moment was the Wraiths that were streaking along behind the trench, their gunners and pilots firing on full auto to try and beat back the enemy.

Sir Charles found that he did not have to repeat himself twice, as soldiers were vaulting up out of the defensive trenches, while others running for the earthen steps that led up to ground level.

Rotor was among the latter of those, panting in exertion as he ran as fast as he could, not a feat easily achieved with the Lex that he had slung over his shoulder. He knew, as most of the others did now, that they were stalling for time, and that any heavy weapon they could get their hands upon would be vital in that process.

Faster, he knew he had to go faster, had to will himself to move as quickly as he could. As if to emphasize the importance of that fact, a crimson plasma bolt sped by, nearly clipping him… and he was among the luckier ones.

A soldier to his left fell, a shot taking him just under an armor plate on his back. The man cried out, blood flecking off of his lips as his chest seemed blossom outward, a grisly fate that the purple walrus could only hope and pray was a fast one.

To his right, another trooper fared no better. A round caught her in the side, spinning her around with the impact. Another hit her in the chest, and then another after that, rapid fire until her armor failed her, and the superheated plasma pierced flesh instead of ferrosteel and armor weave.

He'd run a good four hundred feet by this time, he reckoned it was the fastest he'd ever run in his life, the load he was carrying notwithstanding. Another bolt hit him, this one on the back of his right shin guard, causing him to stumble. Fortunately, he was near enough to the inner trench that a frantic leap as he was falling forward was enough to propel him into it, though his landing was anything but comfortable.

Geoffrey was already in the trench, reloading his bowcaster and bringing it up, squinting as he fired at the battle droids. Sir Charles was closing fast, a surprising considering that he was running backwards, still snapping off shots whenever he got a bot lined up, something that wasn't exactly difficult given the current situation.

Derrick was still in the trench however, and Rotor cocked his head for a moment, though he didn't stop trying to set the plasma cannon back up. What was the Mandalorian up to?

Moments later, he understood.

Mounted upon the former Death Watchman's left gauntlet was a slight bump, that when activated via a button in the center of it, revealed itself to be a laser pointer, currently centered on a large group of the battle droids. One might wonder what it was for, given that there did not appear to be a combat grade weapon below it, or anywhere else near it for that matter. Its purpose was an extremely dangerous one, however, and anyone who had the unpleasant experience of fighting a Mandalorian, and living to tell the tale, would have taken cover at that moment. But then, the Swat Bots had never engaged such a foe before, and did not understand what that gesture meant.

The Stinger missile mounted upon the black armored warrior's jetpack came to life as Derrick pressed another button on the gauntlet with his thumb. Almost as soon as it was in the air, he snapped his chin forward, activating the repulsors in his pack. As he came up off of the ground, he angled himself backwards towards the inner lines of the defense, but he never let his arm move from the target. Seconds later, the Stinger came down at a seventy five degree angle, slamming into the chosen droid and then exploding.

A twenty meter wide fireball erupted from the bot as the missile detonated. Derrick smiled grimly as he braced himself for his landing. He'd probably just taken out at least thirty of the mechanized fiends, and while it made little difference in the long run, every victory, every kill, was like taking a weight off of his aging shoulders.

Unfortunately, he was also able to get a bird's eye view of the surrounding battlefield, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Corpses lay all over the place, as these guerillas apparently forgot one important rule that had been drilled into his head over and over again during his youth: never turn your back on the enemy. Only the old hedgehog, Sir Charles, seemed to realize that retreating in such a fashion just made you a target that didn't fight back, something to be picked off at the enemy's leisure.

He also wasn't immune to enemy action, either, as no less than four rounds slammed into him. Fortunately, his assault armor was up to the task of protecting him in this battle, as it had in so many others before it.

He landed with a grunt, quickly grabbing a look over his shoulder at his position relative to the trench, before taking three steps backwards and hopping down. Then he carefully put his weapon, a submachine gun that he'd taken from a corpse, down on the ground, before taking a knee and grabbing one of his Stinger reloads. A couple of seconds later, he picked his gun back up, and leveled it, waiting for the enemy to come to him.

His early experiments with the weapon indicated that it had good stopping power and firing rate, but it seemed to have some issues in the accuracy department. Thus, he would have to wait for the battle droids to get closer for it to do any good.

The Swat Bots were scrambling to make that happen for him, pushing their way towards the now evacuated trench, and falling right into a trap. For as they got down into its depths, some of them beginning to use the partial cover to throw out covering fire for their mechanized comrades and others beginning to make a move for the inner defenses, the trench seemed to suddenly explode in stream of bursting fire that put Derrick's Stinger to shame.

Looking up, the Mandalorian saw Dulcy diving down from the treetops, spitting fireballs at the battle droids. At the last possible second, the dragon pulled up, skimming along the top of the battlefield. She inhaled again, and once again unleashed her hellish breath weapon upon the mechanized troopers, leaving nothing but scorched grass and puddles of metal that had once been robots in her wake.

Naturally, the Swat Bots and Hover Bots quickly realized the kind of threat that the dragon posed, and attempted to eliminate her. The key word being attempted, as Rotor and the other technicians had taken the liberty of outfitting her with some rather high end ferrosteel plating. While it may have impeded some of Dulcy's aerial maneuverability, the protection paid off as she felt several bolts connect with her normally vulnerable underbelly.

With a grin that revealed her massive teeth, the green scaled dragon pulled up, heading for the canopy, before twisting over and about and dive bombing the bots once again.

"Nice to have close air support on our side for a change," Rotor muttered off to a side, though he knew it would take a lot more than that to throw back the invaders.

* * *

Unknown to any of the valiant defenders, though, was that as bad as things were, they were about to get worse.

Moving slowly through the canopy was a fleeting blur. Its slow rate of movement was in no way an indication of its ability to keep its balance, as it could have proceeded forward much faster than this, but rather, of stealth. Norrack might have been wearing active camouflage, event that could be spotted if he was careless, and surprise was everything in this upcoming fight.

Finally, after many minutes of crawling and carefully measured jumps, the ARC trooper knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was beyond the raging battle, and down below, he could see his objective.

He judged his distance to the ground from where he was, roughly eighty feet. With a final look around to make certain that no one was staring up at the canopy, the cyborg took a small jump, hopping off of the large branch that had been holding him up.

It would have been suicide for nearly anything else. The ARC trooper felt the air rush by as the ground sped upwards to meet him, and the Mark VIII felt it as well. Automatic safety protocols were enacted, and the pressure to the hydrostatic gel in the armor was increased, which would cause it to function in a manner similar to a form fitting airbag. The Aratech's armor plates were nearly impervious, almost as sturdy as if they had been made out of pure cortosis, and that was precisely the problem here. Were it not for the cushioning gel, the super soldier might be pulverized against the very thing that protected him, his ferrosteel plated bones aside.

As it was though, the fall was merely uncomfortable. Norrack hit the ground with an audible thump and noticeable impressions were made where his boots and right gauntlet had smacked into the earth. Slowly, the commando looked up, sighting his target, and breaking into a run. There were about two hundred feet between him and his target, and though he could have easily accelerated to full speed, he did not. This was mainly because such an action would actually place him at a severe disadvantage, given that he had no idea what he was going to be up against once at his objective, and he wanted to be able to make a temporary bug out if things got too dicey.

Once he was fifteen feet from his objective, he leapt, sticking his feet out and bracing for yet another impact.

* * *

Elias was relaying orders back and forth, his gaze flicking between the holo table, his father, and the group of children who were huddling together in the back corner.

It was then that Death came knocking.

At nearly thirty kilometers an hour, Norrack slammed through the front door of the command hut, hitting the ground and rolling up into a crouching position. All gazes turned, and the two guards nearest to the door instinctively leveled their weapons. It wouldn't do them much good, however, for no sooner did they have the weapons pointed at the blur and it leapt into action, literally. The ARC trooper jumped, twisting about as the refractions faded to reveal him for all to see, as active camouflage was rather pointless right now.

He hit the nearest wall feet first, and actually ran along its length for a few steps, angling himself just right, his balance perfect for what he needed to stay like that for just a split second. Once in position, he leapt at the nearest of the first two guards, who were trying to turn and get their flechette shotguns lined up. The first one nearly succeeded, but just before he did, Norrack reached back and pulled out his kaiburr sword. In the same blurring movement, he ignited the glowing blade and swept it right across the Mobian's neck, removing his head from his shoulders.

The second guard met a similar fate as the ARC trooper hit the ground and vaulted up again, performing a summersault and landing behind him. As he went to turn, the cyborg thrust his blade backwards, angling it upwards while he was at it. It entered the poor soldier near the base of his spine, before erupting out of his chest, leaving the man to gasp and scream silently as he stared at the blade. In another blurred movement, Norrack tore it out, before turning and slowly facing the remaining twenty guards, and the people they were protecting.

The two bodies slumped to the ground, the ARC's attack having taken about a second and a half to complete.

Those with blades and shields quickly unsheathed the former and activated the latter, while the shotgun bearing ones quickly tried to get into position.

A few moments passed, both sides appearing to be waiting for the other to make the first move.

It was then that Elias, who had been shocked by both the cyborg's sudden appearance, and his subsequent display, found his voice.

"Sis," he said quietly into his boom mike, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"What is it, Elias?" she growled back. "I'm a little busy right now."

"He's here…"

Even as the words left his mouth, the ARC trooper apparently got tired of waiting, and his vibro claws extended. He then tensed, and leaped.

* * *

&

* * *

And cut.

Okay, stopping there, as I felt that the upcoming fights following this scene deserved a chapter of their own, as they are quite long, and I felt like throwing in another cliff hanger (raises riot shield).

At any rate, hope you found it worth your while, and that you're not upset with me over anything. As usual, any form of comment, advice, constructive criticism, flames, ideas, etc, is welcomed with open arms.

Thank you all, and have a wonderful day.


	12. A Heroic Stand, Part Three

Hello again everyone, and I hope this update finds you in good health.

Not a whole lot going on over here, aside from my usual amount of stress, though thankfully the elementary school schedules a little weird down here, so my brother will be back to junior high in a couple of weeks, so I should at last be able to get some peace and quiet.

As always, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read the story, and I hope that you enjoy this little addition to it. A warning though, the majority of this chapter revolves around Norrack in combat, so expect the usual amount of brutality and bloodshed, among other things.

Lawyers: you know the drill, I own nothing, so bugger off!

That said, here's chapter twelve.

* * *

&

* * *

A Heroic Stand: Part Three

"He's here…"

For a moment, Sally forgot about the battle that still raged, the battle they were swiftly losing. She could only focus upon her brother's voice, so quiet, the terror detectable within it. She knew that there was only one being in this battle that Elias would ever refer to in that manner. Despite all of their precautions, all of their defenses, Norrack had somehow managed to slip by undetected, and had now penetrated the command hut. Her brother and her father were in mortal danger, and then a thought came to her that was even more sobering in a way: Tails.

She couldn't let anything happen to her family, not after everything that had befallen her already.

With a snarl of determination, she lobbed a thermal detonator at the Swat Bots that were closing in on her position, which was followed swiftly by a second. Then, using the explosions as cover, she leapt up out of the trench she was in, and began dashing towards the command hut. The building was nearly half a kilometer away from where she was, though, and much as it pained her, Sally knew that she could not make a straight beeline for the command center, as that would make her an even more fabulous target than she already was.

Thus, she was forced to put random changes of direction and rolls into her path, all the while praying that she would not be too late.

* * *

Claws extended and kaiburr sword glowing blue white in the light of the hut, Norrack came down at the nearest guard, his mind churning all the while. The data that had been uploaded into his brain gave him no information about these weapons that the guards were currently clutching, and his instincts warned him to be wary of them.

Sure enough, his eyes went wide behind his visor as the guard managed to snap of a shot. His energy shield crackled and flared as the flechette rounds hit them, pinging and ricocheting everywhere as they hit the barrier. The shield gauge at the top right corner of his HUD flashed and dropped by a fifth. He then counterattacked, driving his vibro claws through the guard's chest, while brining his blade across his throat, severing the jugular veins and slashing open a good portion of the windpipe.

Slug throwers! Instantly, the ARC trooper realized the threat that these weapons posed to him, and knew that he would have to change his plan of attack if he wanted to succeed. Fortunately, he was capable of thinking on his feet, and a new combat plan formed within a fraction of a second.

As the other guards began to orient their weapons upon him, the cyborg vaulted backwards, performing a summersault. So great was his jumping capability that the leap placed him at the end of the soldiers' formation. They had been in a somewhat crescent shape, so this meant that in his current position he only had three who could fire at him. Aiding him in this was the fact that he'd hung on to the now quite dead soldier, which he held in front of him like a shield, his claws still protruding from the Mobian's back.

Two of the guards fired, while the rest moved about, trying to get a clear shot at the ARC trooper. Norrack staggered backwards slightly as the impact of the rounds slamming into his impromptu protection forced him backwards. He'd seen a pumping mechanism along the bottom of the weapons, and he knew that they were probably semi-automatic, so he'd have a brief moment where each was vulnerable. Knowing how quickly he'd have to act, the ARC popped his head around the left side of the corpse he was holding, bringing his plasma caster up with a though and aiming it straight at the most conveniently placed enemy. He fired a pair of shots, and both slammed into the guard's helmet.

The ARC wasn't certain if the shots had killed or merely incapacitated and disoriented the man, but the important thing was that he was on his back and his dangerous weapon sliding well away from him.

He felt another impact, followed swiftly by another. The first came from in front, and was harmlessly absorbed by the body he was holding, but the second one came in from his flank, and his shields, which had already started recharging, dropped again.

Calmly, the cyborg brought his flamethrower about, and sent a stream of liquid fire at his foe. The man screamed horribly as the flames crackled over him, washing over him like water. The ARC quickly turned the stream upon the soldier who'd had the very bad judgment to stand next to his comrade. At that time, another blast from the trooper to his front caused him to be rocked backwards, and it was all Norrack could do to repress a snarl, as that one was really beginning to bug him. Still, he knew how to deal with him, and it was high time that he changed up where he was standing, as the five other soldiers who still remained were about to flank him, something that could get ugly really fast if he let them.

Reigniting his energy blade, the ARC trooper surged forward with speed that was astounding for something of his size and build. The soldier, who had taken a knee in hopes of firing at the cyborg's legs, tried to stand and throw himself out of the way. Unfortunately, he had just stood up completely by the time that Norrack was upon him. The killing machine charged in, hitting the man with corpse of his fellow, and using it to push him up off of the ground and into the air. It was then a fairly simple matter to draw back with his kaiburr sword and stick it through the both of them. A faint gurgle came from above his head as the ARC dove forward, rolling as he hit the ground and then leaping forward once his feet were properly oriented with the floor.

He twisted halfway through his leap, bringing himself around so that when he hit the wall feet first, he was ready to jump again. This time, though, as he did, he brought his caster up again, and his target had just enough time to gasp in horror before four rounds tore through him, the powerful bolts shredding his armor and flesh.

He hit the ground rolling after that, coming up right in front of one soldier. Norrack didn't come up all the way, instead he merely used his energy blade to slash the trooper's legs out from underneath her. The girl toppled forward, her shout of surprise curt short by the fact that she'd fallen upon the ARC's talons.

Three left, and Norrack found himself having to perform several backwards handsprings in order to avoid getting cut down by overlapping fields of fire as the trio took aim and pumped round after round of flechette pellets at him. He was still hit a few times, as the conical blast that the shotguns created insured that at greater range, there was a better chance of scoring a hit. The catch was because of the spread of the pellets, a hit would more than likely deal less damage.

That was a problem that did not befall the ARC's own ranged weapon, and as he came out of his acrobatics display, Norrack sighted up and slotted the center most guard with a well placed burst of fire. The man fell, dead before he'd even hit the ground.

The final two guards were taken care of at the same time, another one being dropped with a well placed head shot from Norrack's shoulder mounted weapon, while the one more to the right was turned into a living torch.

For a moment, nothing happened as everyone who still drew breath looked upon the ARC with a sense of awe and dread.

Then the cyborg began to walk forward, his pace steady and measured, both of his melee weapons extended as he began taking stock of the remaining guards, the ones with blades at their sides.

As he moved towards them, he paused briefly to look down at the guard he'd shot in the helmet earlier. A quick scan revealed that the man was still breathing, if only barely. Still, it wouldn't do to have even a mortally wounded foe at your back, as those ones, knowing their life was approaching its end, tended to fight the most desperately. Still, it also wouldn't do to waste ammo on a dying person at his feet when there were many more live targets right in front of him. Thus, he opted to simply lift up his right leg, and bring it smashing down onto the guard's chest.

All present heard the sound of bone shattering, and a single choked cry came from the Mobian, cut off halfway through as his heart was crushed by the force of the blow.

Perhaps that sharp snapping sound was what was needed to haul everyone back to reality and realize that this cybernetic killer had just destroyed twelve of their best, and they were next unless they could stop him. Almost as one, they activated their energy shields and drew their vibro blades, switching them on. Then they slowly began to move forward, their shields held up and their weapons drawn back, wary for any sudden move the lightning fast ARC might make towards them.

Much to their surprise, Norrack allowed for eight of them to completely surround him, remaining stock still all the while, save for the occasional turn of his head, as if he was sizing up what his opponents were going to be capable of.

Elias didn't understand what was going on. Was this some sort of game that the cyborg was playing, some prelude to a sadistic trick that Robotnik was going to make him pull? The prince did not know, and he found himself dreading the answer as he stared at the scene before him, waiting for one side to make the first move.

This time, it would be the Freedom Fighters who struck first… or rather, who tried to.

A soldier behind the ARC tried to cut into his back, bringing his vibro blade down in a vicious overhand chop. In a quick blur, the ARC snapped his left arm backwards, swatting the attack away with what looked to be near effortless ease. That attack would prove to be a cue, however, and the rest of the guards struck even before the cyborg got his arm back down by his side.

What happened next was a sight that everyone present would remember for a long, long time: Norrack verily exploded into motion as the soldiers swung at him.

The first attack was an underhand strike that was intended to cut deep into the ARC's side. However, in a movement so fast that it would have made a cobra jealous, Norrack's kaiburr sword swept up and knocked the blow harmlessly aside.

The second strike came in, this time from behind and the cyborg spun about. Once again, the blow, meant to cut into the area of his back that was devoid of the dark armor plating, was deflected by the glowing energy blade. The third was next, a sideways one aimed at his neck. This was caught by the vibro claws and the resulting parry nearly tore the weapon from the guard's hand, so great was the force that had been behind it.

Attack number four was a thrust that would have buried the vibro blade up to the hilt in the ARC's chest had it hit home. However, in a move that seemed beyond Mobian capacity in its fluidity and grace, the cyborg killing machine leaned backwards, letting the strike pass harmlessly over him.

His position made it slightly awkward to block attacks five and six; both ferocious chops aimed at his now every much exposed torso. However, his speed and reflexes proved to be sufficient enough to stop them cold. Now though, he was in danger of losing his balance, so Norrack thought it best to remove himself from the precarious stance he found himself in.

He pushed off of the ground, going into a back flip. Halfway through it, he stopped the seventh strike as well, lashing out with his right foot and catching the flat of the blade, kicking it away.

All of this happened in a period of about three seconds, and Elias, King Acorn, and the children who were unfortunately getting a good eyeful of what was happening here, could not believe what they had just seen. In less than the time it took for the first soldier to get prepared to make another swing at him, the ARC had parried, blocked, or otherwise defeated eight different attacks.

However, the soldiers did not relent in the slightest, knowing that they had to keep Norrack from making any form of offensive moves of his own. They knew all too well the disaster that would befall them if such an event were to occur.

For some moments, how long it was no one could later recall, the melee continued until it happened.

One of the guards made a thrust, hoping to run the ARC trooper through. However, he accidentally overreached himself. That was what Norrack had been waiting for, the one small slip up that would enable him to break through this stalemate. He lashed out with his claws, coming in from the side and actually catching the vibro blade behind the hilt, before yanking backwards and ripping the blade out of the man's grip. As the blade flew, the cyborg retracted his claws and caught the weapon, holding it in the reverse grip one associated with knife fighting. However, he didn't hold it like that for long, as with a deft flick, he spun the blade around, driving up through the abdomen and chest of the soldier who'd been holding it a split second earlier.

The blade came up and out, stained red with the guard's blood, and then the ARC turned to block the next attack, one coming in from behind. His newly acquired weapon swatted the other blade out and away, and he took advantage of the soldier's momentary vulnerability, striking with his kaiburr sword, reaching out and cutting the guard in half at the waist.

He knew that he had to be quick, because there were the two other guards rushing in to fill the places of the pair that he'd cut down, and he wanted to hurry up and deal with these annoyances that he might complete his objective. He flipped the vibro blade round to where he once more carried it like a dagger, and he caught another attack, shoving the guard's harmlessly wide of the mark. However, what he did that caught the girl off guard was at the same time he was doing that, his claws came back out. She had enough time to gasp, before the talons bit into the side of her helmet, and tore through her head.

Three down, and now he had a permanent opening, something that he intended to take full advantage of. The cyborg made a break for it, rolling underneath a pair of attacks and coming up running, heading in the direction of one of the command hut's walls. As he reached it, he'd built up enough momentum that he was able to plant his feet into it and begin running up it.

Most of the soldiers had been attempting to pursue him, thinking to pin him in with his back to the wall and take him down that way, but when they saw the first part of his plan, the paused, hesitating. That would prove to be a fatal error, especially on the part of the guard closest to him.

Norrack hit the roof, and then leapt off at an angle, gravity and his own impressive head of steam propelling him towards the nearest adversary. Once more, he twisted about, getting himself ready. A split second later, he hit the guard dead on, burying his claws into the poor soul. The two of them skidded across the floor, the talons leaving two very evident furrows in the paneling on the ground. Still moving quickly, Norrack threw his feet up into the air, giving himself the force needed to bring himself up into a flip. At the proper moment, he retracted his claws, letting the dying soldier fly away. The man crashed into a female guard, and both went down in a heap, sliding away from the battle.

Now holding the advantage of surprise, he threw himself upon the remaining troopers before they could mount a counter offensive.

The first one set his shield up to block the charge he knew was coming, but it did him little good, as the ARC trooper merely came in from one side, knocking both his shield and blade aside. Then, before the soldier could react, the cyborg kicked him square in the muzzle. Bone crunched as it was smashed into his face, driving the bone up into the brain and killing the man almost instantly.

Two of the remaining four tried to rush him at the same time, but the ARC merely vaulted over their heads, spinning about as he came down, burying the stolen vibro blade and his energy sword up to their hilts in the men's backs. He ripped the weapons out, before turning to face the next nearest one. He cocked his left arm back, before letting the vibro blade fly at the Mobian. Instinctively, the man raised his shield to block the missile, but too late, realized his error in doing so.

The force behind the throw knocked him off balance, leaving him flat footed and vulnerable to what came next. He had just enough time to scream in denial before a sweeping blow from the cyborg's kaiburr sword decapitated him.

The only soldier left on his feet stood wide eyed as he finally understood just how well the ARC trooper had been named. His hands shook, but he tried to hold his blade steady. It would do him little good, for the ARC shot at him, blade and claws cocked back for wicked strikes. To his credit, the guard tried swinging one final time, if only to delay the mechanized nightmare from reaching his charges. Unfortunately for him, Norrack anticipated the blow, and ducked underneath it, putting him in the perfect position to whip both claws and blade upward, cleaving through the soldier's abdomen leaving his guts to spill out on the floor beneath him.

He didn't die instantly, such wounds did not kill quickly, and as he slumped to his knees, the ARC paused, before bringing his energy blade across the back of the soldier's neck, ending his suffering.

He then heard a groan off to the side, and saw the female soldier he'd hit with the corpse earlier trying to rise. A thought was all it took, and the plasma caster was out, and three shots fired at the soldier. She slumped to the floor, her last breath a dying gasp.

As before, no one said anything, no one moved, all simply stared at the Angel of Death, as it seemed to look about, making certain that its elimination of the command hut's defenses was complete and total.

"Dear Goddess almighty," Elias swore, his eyes wide over the carnage, and the piles of blood and gore that not three minutes ago had been living breathing people.

That seemed to attract the ARC's attention to him, as the silent warrior slowly looked over to him, and the next thing that Elias knew there was a trio of targeting lasers that were being pointed right at his skull. The prince held his ground though, determined that if he was going to die, then it would be with dignity.

Norrack took aim, preparing to dispatch one of his primary targets, one of the few he was being given permission to kill, when suddenly a voice that only he could hear interrupted him.

"Wait a minute, Norrack," came the voice of his master, and the ARC paused, awaiting this amendment to his orders, "I've a better idea."

The change in plans came, and for a moment, the cyborg hesitated, not certain if he'd heard right. What his master wanted would result in the completely unnecessary deaths of…

_Obey! _

The electronic voice screamed though his mind, overwhelming his senses for a split second, and causing him a great amount of discomfort. He heard a whine and a discharge, followed by the sensation that someone or something had just hit him, and he looked around, shaken out of his semi-dazed reverie. One of the technicians had drawn a pistol and fired at him what he was distracted. Fortunately, it barely even made a dent in his shields, and a moment later, he dispatched the man, a clean shot through the heart from his caster.

He deactivated the weapon, and it went back into its holster. The cyborg then turned his back upon the group of people trapped within, as if daring them to make a move against him. He walked towards the door, and upon reaching it, turned back to face the Mobians, his gaze centered upon the king, who took a momentary step back from the gaze of the ARC trooper despite the large distance between them.

Elias just stared back, wondering what the cyborg was up to. He found out a moment later, as Norrack raised his right arm, and a blast of fire shot from his flamethrower. The stream hit the ceiling, and he began to make minor adjustments, brining the stream across the whole expanse of the ceiling. Steel melted, wood burst into flame, and within seconds, the whole command hut was on its way to being a crackling inferno.

Instinctively, the Mobians inside retreated back, away from the hellish flames that burned and popped above them, while Norrack stepped outside the door, not wishing to be in the way of any falling debris that might come crashing down as the structural integrity of the command hut failed.

The children screamed and huddled close, some crying and whimpering, others just trembling in fear, knowing what was about to happen. Tails, however, did not. True, he was more afraid now than he'd ever been before in his life, at least that he could remember, but he would not let it show. He stood somewhat apart from the others, his eyes narrowed in defiance as he stared at the cyborg that had condemned them to this fate.

It seemed to get Norrack's attention, at least the kit thought that it did, for he suddenly felt as if the ARC trooper's eyes were upon him. In response, he merely crossed his arms over his chest, just as Sonic always had. However, he did not break his stare at the killing machine, and in response, Norrack cocked his head to one side in what appeared to be a quizzical manner, as if he did not know what to make of this youngster who refused to cower before him.

All the while, the flames burned on.

* * *

It had taken the princess nearly three minutes to get to where she was, and she was still only about halfway to the command hut, mostly due to the fact that she'd gotten hung up slightly when a pair of Hover Bots had seen her heading in that direction, and decided to try and intercept her.

Now, though, she could see smoke starting to rise from inside the building, and fear clutched at her heart. She snarled, forcing herself to move faster, reminding herself what the stakes were. Her pace increased, and she drew her blade, knowing what she would likely encounter when she arrived.

And she was not the only one to realize what was happening.

* * *

Derrick fired the submachine gun he had acquired in controlled bursts. He'd initially had a problem with it being like a plasma hose, resulting in a very inefficient expenditure of ammo, but he'd at last managed to get some control over it.

A round came in, slamming into the Mandalorian's shoulder with enough force to spin him halfway around before he could stop himself. As luck would have it this placed him to where he was looking in the direction of the command hut, and he also saw the smoke. A gasp left his throat, as his thoughts briefly drifted to Amy and to Tails. That gasp became a growl, as he thought fate was attempting to mock him.

He chinned the button in his helmet, and his jetpack activated, shooting him out of the trench he was in and propelling him towards his destination.

He saw Sally running as he approached, and from his vantage point, Norrack as well. It was the first time he'd actually seen the ARC trooper without his camouflage on, but he had seen enough of the handiwork the ARC had left behind at Pinewood to know that it was him.

A plan formed as he saw where the princess was, and while it was not the most thought out one and exceedingly risky, it would suffice at the moment, as the command hut looked as if it were going to begin collapsing at any moment.

He leveled his right arm, and fired off a buster rocket at the wall that Sally was closest to, all the while praying that he didn't accelerate the collapse. It finally seemed as though providence was going to cut the old warrior some slack though, for instead of destroying the building, the small device merely blew a hole in the back wall.

Sally saw it, and nodded her thanks, before rushing towards the new exit, and beginning to try and direct people out.

However, Norrack saw this as well and rapidly moved to stop it.

The cyborg wasn't stupid enough to rush through the burning building, and so he opted to go around it. However, as he did, he looked about, trying to see who or what had decided to throw this crimp into his plan. He saw Derrick, descending towards the ground as the charge on his jetpack ran low.

He paused for only a moment, wondering who he should go after. The princess was busy helping the rest of his targets to escape, but this other warrior was the one who was apparently covering her. Some of the data that had been uploaded into his brain had included information on Mandalorians, and how they had this annoying tendency to turn their armor into walking weapons platforms. While he had full confidence in his armor's ability to protect him, the ARC trooper wasn't about to leave a potential threat at his back like that, particularly one that had so much firepower at its disposal.

Derrick saw the charge, and was nearly overtaken before he could even get his zhaboka out. Only his instinctive reaction to danger, the habits he'd picked up after years of fighting, saved his life. He reached down and grabbed his weapon, pressing a button on its handle that caused it to extend. In the blink of an eye, he was holding a double bladed sword that was longer than he was tall. Indeed, the weapon was nearly five feet from blade tip to blade tip, with a two foot area in the middle that functioned as a handle.

He brought it up at an angle, stopping the ARC's initial strikes, mostly due to the fact that Norrack appeared to have been caught off guard by the appearance of the weapon. He caught the vibro claws with the lower half of the weapon, while the other end of the zhaboka parried the kaiburr sword.

Norrack was again surprised, as he knew this was no vibro weapon that his opponent was carrying. How then, was the energy sword being blocked? It was then that he noticed something strange about the blades: the metal they were made out of had a strange pattern to them, a series of lines and curves that almost made it look like either a series of watery ripples, or a cliff composed of many different rock layers.

So, it was an alloy of some sort, and it left the ARC to wonder.

All of that passed through the ARC's mind in a fraction of a second, and it was then that he noticed something else. The part of Derrick's weapon that was touching his kaiburr sword was starting to glow, going from steel gray to an angry cherry red. So, this alloy, whatever it was, was not invincible, and could only resist the power of his weapon for a short while.

Derrick saw it too, and the Mandalorian uttered a quite oath, and attempted to take advantage of the momentary distraction he seemed to have caused in the cyborg. He succeeded, if only just, driving the ARC back. He spun his weapon, bringing the blade on his right side up from below, hoping as the guards back in the command hut had, to hit him where his armor plating wasn't so thick.

The ARC blocked the strike with relative ease, catching the zhaboka blade in between his vibro claws, before twisting them, preventing the weapon from moving any further. At the same time, he thrust his energy blade forward, intending to drive it right through the visor of the former Death Watchman. However, though age had slowed his reflexes to a degree, the artic fox was able to duck beneath the strike, twisting out of the way and yanking his weapon out from between the ARC's talons. At the same time, he gave his weapon another spin, aiming for the back of Norrack's kneecaps. The killing machine merely leapt over the attack though, going into a flip while he was in midair before bringing his kaiburr sword down in a ferocious two handed strike that was meant to bisect the old warrior.

Derrick threw himself backwards, desperately trying to get clear of the blow. He succeeded, but immediately thereafter, he found himself having to furiously whip his double bladed sword around to keep the ARC from shattering his defenses and killing him on the spot.

Behind his helmet, the old Mandalorian could barely contain his shock over how this fight was turning out. He knew the ARC probably had an edge on him, but he had never expected this. In less than four seconds of fighting, the cyborg killer had already stolen the offensive away from him, and deep down, within the instinctive recesses of his mind Derrick knew that he was never going to get it back. He was playing for time now, for someone, something, to come and help him stave off this nightmare. In a moment of terrifying realization, the artic fox realized that the ARC trooper was beyond him, that even if he had been at his physical peak, he would never have been able to match it.

He tried to dive beneath a pair of downward chops, and succeeded in doing so, only to find he had taken the bait for a trap, hook, line, and sinker. The cyborg suddenly twisted his kaiburr sword, and only a frantic twist on Derrick's part stopped the weapon from slicing his arm off at the shoulder. As it was, it landed on his upper arm guard, and upon connecting with the black metal, turned it a bright orange before bouncing off.

Derrick had to try his hardest to suppress a growl of pain as he felt the metal brand his arm. Still he quickly got back up, and looked back to his adversary.

"There's another scar for the collection," he muttered, before setting himself into a defensive stance, preparing for the next onslaught.

* * *

Inside the command center at Robotropolis, Julian watched the unfolding battle with a keen interest.

"Well, well, well, it would appear as though those miserable rodents have found themselves an antique," he muttered to himself as he saw his pet assassin keep driving the Mandalorian back.

Truth be told, he was very surprised to find out that any of the mercenaries were still alive, particularly one as high ranking as this one. With all the hate that had been directed towards them before and after Malachor, he had believed that any who had managed to survive his coup would have been taken out soon enough, as he doubted they would have been able to find shelter with other refugees.

Still, he couldn't help but snicker, as he thought about them. They had proven to be unwitting allies in his rise to power. So many soldiers had died at Malachor and in other battles against them that the army had been forced to start training the civilian police officers to take their place. To make up for their absence, they'd had to start integrating robots into the civilian defense patrols. That had rapidly shortened the time it had taken him to get everything into position and ready for his takeover.

The overlord laughed out loud as he saw the Mandalorian barely dodge another vicious strike aimed at cutting him in half, only to then take a powerful round house to the side, throwing him up against the side of the burning command hut.

Norrack went over to finish him off, but Robotnik quickly overrode that, and reminded the ARC trooper that he had wasted enough time with that relic, and needed to try and find his primary objectives again.

* * *

The heat was unbearable, and Tails briefly wondered if this was what his brother had felt before he died.

At first, when the hole in the wall had appeared, he'd thought that a miracle had occurred, and that they might just survive after all. Sally had appeared shortly thereafter, and had begun trying to get people out. However, by that point in time, the structure had begun to collapse, and all effort was being made to get everyone out.

It was then that a problem had cropped up, particularly for him and Amy. One of the large support beams had come crashing down, and while he had been able to get out of the way, the hedgehog had not. Tails's acute sense of hearing had been able to pick up the crack of bone as the two hundred pound beam had come down on her back. Mercifully, though, it appeared as though it had also rendered her unconscious, so she was oblivious to what was going on around her.

Now here he was, trying vainly to lift it off of her, knowing he couldn't do it alone, but also knowing he couldn't just leave her. He would not abandon someone trapped like this; he would not leave Amy to die as his brother had.

Grunting, he tried once again, heedless of the fact that his gloves had been scorched off and his palms were now horribly burned, with the flames beginning to lick their way up his arms. Sweat, both from the heat and his exertion ran in streams down his back, and his namesakes thrashed back in forth as he put every once of effort into lifting the beam.

Faintly, he thought he heard his name being called, but he did not look over his shoulder to see who it was. At any rate, he suspected that if anyone was looking for him, then his scream, one part pain, one part desperate frustration at his own lack of strength, would have let them know where he was.

He heard the voice again, and this time, knew both that it was asking for him, and who it was.

"Over here!" he shouted, trying his best to shut out the nearly blinding agony as the flames licked at the flesh on his arms.

Within seconds, Sally was at his side.

It took the princess mere moments to assess the situation, and know how dire it was. Amy appeared to be unconscious, while Miles struggled to get her out from under the support beam. She knew that even together, they could not lift that weight, but as she gazed down to the blade she held in her right hand, she thought that maybe they wouldn't have to.

Quickly, she brought the Sword of Acorns above her head, and brought it down. The wood was no match for the blade's bite, and it was cut cleanly. Knowing they likely had only a few seconds before the whole place came down, the ground squirrel quickly flipped the now far more manageable weight off of Amy's back, before quickly reaching down and pulling the girl up into her arm. Sheathing the sword, she paused just long enough to beat out the flames on Tails' arms, before scooping him up as well and dashing for the exit.

Coughing, she got the children out, hoping and praying that neither of them were injured too badly.

But as she stared at Amy's back, and then down at Tails blackened hands and forearms, she knew that this would be one prayer that would not be answered. She screamed for a medic, hoping that someone, anyone, would be able to help them.

What she got was a loud yell and a thump as Derrick careened into the side of the command hut, before hitting the ground hard. He went down, and did not rise, though she could see that he was still breathing.

She turned away, desperately trying to find someone among the survivors that could administer first aid to the girl she carried, and hoping to put some distance between herself and the Mandalorian, as she had a good idea what had done that to him, and trying to engage it while dealing with two injured children would not be a good idea.

After a few frantic seconds, she found a medic that had been stationed in the command hut, just in case. The man, a ferret, was badly burned himself, but he gently took Amy from her, before yanking out a syringe that was filled with a combination of bacta and koto, a potent painkiller that would keep the girl from waking for a while, hopefully until they could get her to a hospital in another nearby village.

She looked around suddenly, realizing that in her haste to make certain that the hedgehog was alright, she'd lost track of Tails. Not a second later, she heard a cry from behind her, a short distance off, and whirling around, saw a sight that made her blood run cold.

Perhaps the pain from his injuries disoriented him, but Tails had been stumbling about in a daze ever since Sally had pulled him out, and he'd wandered a slight bit away from them.

He'd been taken totally off guard when Norrack had appeared behind him and knocked him to the dirt. Now the ARC trooper was on his knees, one hand keeping the little fox pinned to the ground, the other one cocked back, vibro claws out, ready to stab them into the boy.

Rage as she had never known it before filled her, and she charged towards them, denial working its way up in her as she knew she would never make it in time.

But perhaps the Goddess truly did watch over the boy that day, for the cyborg didn't strike.

He stared down at the young child, wondering briefly why he was doing this. His master had seen the little mutant wandering away from the fire, no doubt partially delirious as those looked like nasty third degree burns upon his limbs. Robotnik had quickly ordered him to remove the boy from the picture, but now that he was about to do it, he hesitated. Why should he kill the child? It was no threat to the operation, and had absolutely no chance of stopping him or Mecha or anything else.

Then the boy opened his eyes.

For a moment, Norrack stopped, and just stared at those blue orbs, eyes that should have been brimming with the innocence of youth, now rimmed by pain and agony.

The raised fist wavered, and slowly, the vibro claws started to retract.

Then the command to obey came again, so quickly and with such force that it brought pain even greater than before. The ARC trooper growled and shook his head slightly, before staring back down at his very much helpless prey. With a harsh shriek, the talons were back out, the fist steadied and ready to drive them through the kit's heart.

Then a cry reached his ears, one that was filled with such fury and rage that lesser soldiers would have trembled upon hearing it. He looked up in its direction, and saw the princess rushing towards him, her blade drawn and cocked back.

He threw himself backwards, and the cortosis sword missed by only a couple of inches.

Sally did not relent, but immediately came in with a lightning fast series of slashes and thrusts that had the already off balance ARC having to use every trick up his sleeve to avoid getting skewered. Indeed, he never even got the chance to reach back and draw his kaiburr sword.

A dangerous light glowed in the princess' eyes, visible even behind her visor, as she channeled her anger towards this fiend that had dared to hurt Tails. It was the rage of a mother whose child had been grievously injured, and who would fight to the death to prevent any more harm from befalling it.

This war had already taken the man she loved, and she would _not_ lose her son as well.

Her blade came in again, and this time Norrack was not fast enough to dodge the strike in its entirety. However, rather than biting into the cyborg's arm, the Sword of Acorns merely glanced off, causing the crackling field of his shields to manifest.

The ARC trooper desperately tried to get some distance, as that blow had dropped his shields by a good third, and he had no desire to engage his primary target while she was like this. After all, his orders regarding the princess were severely complicated by the fact that Robotnik wanted her alive and breathing.

Finally seeing an opening as the ground squirrel attacked with another well timed thrust to his mid section, he leaped backwards, putting a good twenty feet between the two of them. He then drew his energy blade and ignited it, before assuming a combat stance.

Sally merely stood where she was, her thoughts torn between her concern for Tails and trying to make certain that Norrack didn't get another shot at him.

Fortunately, it was a decision that she would not have to make. There was a screaming noise, and she saw Norrack twist, fall to the ground and then roll, before throwing himself into a sideways leap from which he emerged on his knees, rising up to face this threat.

He saw that the Mandalorian was back on his feet, his right arm leveled at him. The black armored warrior fired another buster rocket, this one aimed at the ARC's feet. Tapping into his superior speed, Norrack bolted out of the way, though he did feel the sudden temperature rise as the small rocket exploded.

Not wasting a second, Norrack charged at Derrick, bringing up his plasma caster and shooting a stream of blue white fire at the old warrior. Several of the rounds connected, almost knocking the Mandalorian off of his feet, something that surely would have been his end. As it was, though, he was able to activate his jetpack again, and get up into the air. At the same time, he drew his pistol, and fired down at the cyborg. He knew that the pistol wouldn't make a dent in Norrack's shields or armor, but he was once again trying to buy time for the others to get away.

To his surprise, though, the shields and armor never even became part of the equation. Ever shot he snapped off, every purple bolt that streaked down towards the ARC, was blocked or deflected away by the soldier's kaiburr sword, a few of them even coming back and hitting Derrick in his chestplate. Snarling, the former Death Watchman holstered the sidearm, before leveling his left arm, well aware that the plasma caster on the ARC's shoulder was up and beginning to shoot at him again.

"Deflect this!" he hissed, activating his targeting laser and firing his second Stinger.

The missile arched upwards, and Norrack appeared to take noticed of it. In a flash, his caster was down, his energy blade sheathed and claws retracted. Derrick was at a loss, not understanding what the cyborg was about to do.

And then it happened.

As the missile closed in, the ARC trooper tensed, and Derrick furrowed his brow, ready to redirect the missiles aim if he had to. At the last possible second, with his knees bent, Norrack jumped to the left, and to the amazement of the Mandalorian, and anyone else who happened to be watching at the moment, reached out and slapped the Stinger away. It was a contact detonator, so it exploded about half a second after it had been smacked, and a blinding explosion filled the area.

As the flashed cleared, Derrick could not believe his eyes.

Though he had been thrown a little bit by the shockwave and his shields were apparently depleted from the blast, Norrack was already back on his feet and bringing his ranged weapon to bear upon his airborne foe once more. Derrick found himself having to turn off his repulsor jets to get out of the way of the stream of plasma bolts that came flying in at him, activating them again only feet from the ground.

"Me and my big mouth," he muttered to himself, trying to find a way to get out of the mess that he found himself in.

The ARC trooper charged him again, and once more, the former Death Watchman had barely enough time to get himself ready, whipping out his zhaboka before working it back and forth furiously, trying to stave this monster off long enough to find a new strategy.

Once again, he failed.

Norrack came about with another vicious roundhouse that caught the Mandalorian in his side. Derrick felt his breath get blasted from his lungs, and heard several ribs crack. He hit the ground hard, rolling over several times, causing more pain to surge through his body.

After several seconds, he was finally able to stop himself, and he lay on his side, gasping for air like a fish out of water, stars dancing in front of his vision, and vaguely, he wondered if he was about to die. Much to his surprise, the living nightmare that he had been bested by did not appear over him and finish the job, and slowly, trying his best to will the pain away, the old warrior stood, his breath coming in deep, ragged pants.

The cyborg was shifting its gaze between him and Sally, who still stood with her weapon drawn, standing over her adoptive child, daring the ARC trooper to come and test her mettle.

Then the ARC spoke.

"Change of orders acknowledged, proceeding with infantry support," he said, his tone somewhat deep, and also having an effect that sounded as if it had been partially… digitized, for lack of a better term.

The ARC trooper pivoted about, and dashed away.

Sally looked confused, but her concern for Tails quickly overrode that, and as the Mandalorian got to his feet, she was already dashing for the cluster of survivors from the command hut.

Once he was in the hands of the medic, who gave him an injection similar to the one Amy had received, she rushed over to her brother, and began to discuss the situation with him.

Before long, they realized there was but one choice: retreat.

Both of the royal siblings began to call out orders for troops to pull back towards the center and the western flanks. Thankfully, while their command center might have been in shambles, and the remote controls for the minefields were now destroyed, Sally and Elias had both had enough foresight that there had been a backup means of activating them. Elias had a 'dead man stick' styled detonator on him though would activate any remaining mines in the event that he and the command staff were wiped out.

Their one chance was for everyone to make a break for it as soon as the EMP charges went off, before Mecha or Norrack could figure out what was going on.

Orders were barked, and anyone who knew how to drive made a dash for the garage, where the transports were kept. That might have seemed like a lot of manpower to pull off of a front that was already about to collapse, but the sobering fact was that while they did have enough transports to carry the original five or so hundred troops and the few civilians here out of danger, only about half of them would be needed right now, perhaps fewer, if Norrack was indeed heading for the defenses.

That made speed all the more imperative.

However, Sally knew that there were three people who could remain here no longer, and she called for Dulcy to come to where she was.

The dragon was swift to arrive, having heard the order over a makeshift comm. system that she had. She also did not miss the urgency in her friend's voice. As she approached however, the ground squirrel was able to tell that Dulcy had definitely been in the thick of things lately.

Her armor was covered in carbon scoring where enemy shots had landed upon it, and in several areas burns were also visible where concentrated fire had torn through the ferrosteel plating and the hardened scales underneath.

But perhaps the most painful of all were the two holes in her right wing, each about three inches wide, which Sally assumed had to hurt like nothing else. Thankfully, though, it appeared as though the dragon was still capable of flying.

"What is it, Sally?" she inquired, her voice filled with anxiety over what was going on, and the sight that she saw before her.

"We're pulling out, but I need for you to do me a favor," the princess informed her, the tone of her voice as hard as the ferrosteel plates on her Nagai armor.

"What is it?"

"I want you to take Tails, Amy, and my father and get out of here," she said, and it was only then that Dulcy seemed to notice the two children, and their horrid wounds.

A gasp came from the dragon, and she moved in close, trying to get a better look at them, before staring over to the princess, who nodded somberly.

Slowly, with infinite caution, the two children were placed within her stomach pouch, while the king, who seemed in a daze over all that had just occurred offer no resistance when Elias told him to mount up on the dragon's back.

Quickly, before anything else could go wrong, the dragon was airborne, flying up before slipping through a hole in the canopy, carrying her passengers to safety.

"What about the rest of us?" someone asked the two royals.

"Get to a transport and wait for our signal," was what the princess said.

Around them, soldiers rushed by, doing just that. Fear drove them, fear of the mechanized army that was closing in around them, ready to clamp its jaws shut and swallow them up into oblivion.

Behind them, the battle droids advanced, setting fire to anything in their path. Huts, trees, even the ground itself, seemed to burn, and the smoke rose upwards, filtering through the treetops.

Sally set her jaw, refusing to shed tears as she watched her home die.

* * *

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(raises riot shield again)

Yes, yes, before anyone says it, I am an evil son of a gun. Rest assured, the kids will make it through this little ordeal, though they are obviously going to be scarred…

Also, just in case I botched my description of it, Norrack's voice somewhat like the Ghost unit from Star Craft, as it seemed somehow appropriate given the similarity between the two units. Also, while I won't exactly say he'll become talkative, the ARC will no longer be a mute.

That said, any ideas, comments, advice, constructive criticism, flames, etc, are more than welcome.

Thank you all, and have a great day.


	13. Wrath and Ruin

Good day, everyone, and I apologize for not responding to your reviews, like I normally do, but my hotmail got stupid or something and deleted or moved most of them, and I haven't been able to find in myself to search for them.

Some of you may already know this, but on Tuesday of this week, Adam Spencer Smith, a good friend of mine, was killed when a semi truck clipped his car as he returned to work. It seems kind of weird, to watch someone whose only 18 have their life snatched away like that. All those hopes, all those dreams, gone…

Adam was a great kid, a loving brother, and a wonderful friend. His parents were his heroes, and above all else, he wanted to have a family in this life.

He's been one of the few kids around here who ever treated me and my little brother with any degree of respect and dignity. He treated everyone that way, and the room always seemed brighter when he and his twin, Brandon, were in it, telling jokes or plotting their next good natured pranks.

His funeral was today, and the procession had traffic backed up for a good mile or so. Our church's chapel and cultural hall was unable to hold the number of people who came to pay their respects to this young man who touched their lives in such a positive manner. Even more were their in spirit, their prayers going out to his family.

I feel drained and numb right now, and I really don't know what else I can say, other than that the world is a worse off place now that Adam has left it behind. Though we shall all meet him again someday, we shall miss him until then…

This is the second chapter I have uploaded today, and as before, I humbly dedicate it in memory of my friend, who shall live on in our memories. I can only hope that it is a decent enough offering…

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Wrath and Ruin

"Sir, are you sure that it was wise for us to…" Snivley began, scratching the back of his head as a frown came over his face.

"Are you implying that I don't know what I am doing, Snivley?" Robotnik inquired, apparently calm, but the lackey could detect a faint undertone of anger in his uncle's voice.

"No sir, but…" he began again.

"Good," the overlord growled. "Now, as for why I called Norrack off, our infantry is getting bogged down with a few stubborn defenders and I want them to be taken care of so I can close this little chapter of my life."

"And the royals, sir?" the little man asked.

"Let's just say I've thought of a more enjoyable fate for them, and leave it at that for now," Julian said with a chuckle that actually caused Snivley to shiver.

He had an idea of what his uncle meant, and while he was certainly not a weak person himself, and would have had no trouble ordering the deaths of those who opposed him, Norrack's methods had left him feeling woozy and sick to his stomach. In all his years, he'd never seen such brutality before, such wanton violence and reckless destruction. It almost made him feel sorry for the Freedom Fighters, knowing what fate was in store for them.

He looked back up to the view screen that transmitted the data from Norrack's helmet cam, and found himself helplessly drawn in by the spectacle that he was about to witness.

ASD

The ARC trooper's orders had been clear, to disengage the princess and head for the easternmost line of enemy resistance. It was rapidly becoming evident that the enemy had nowhere left to run, and that their fate was sealed. However, all of the cyborg's knowledge indicated that in such an event, the beleaguered soldiers would begin to fight even harder, determined to make his master's forces pay dearly for every single inch of ground that they took.

As he raced towards the trenches, he concluded that was what was happening.

Most of the fighting seemed to be centered around a pillbox. The defensive structure was battered and pockmarked where several Jackhammers had scored hits upon it. Despite all of this, it was still intact, the heavy plasma cannons that were stationed inside of it still laying waste to any infantry forces who came upon it. Supplementing this already impressive defense were a pair of the rebel's light assault craft, which were dashing around and making lightning fast gun runs upon the mechanized troops. Other plasma cannons and standard guerilla soldiers were also clustered around the region, and were doing their best to be major pains in the tail.

Norrack paused for a split second, waiting and observing his adversaries, trying to figure out the best course of action. He would be outnumbered and outgunned no mater which approach he took and he could not count on the Swat Bots or Hover Bots to provide adequate support for a soldier such as himself. He would have to outthink his foes. Fortunately, to aid him in that endeavor was one thing that would give him a keen edge: within his helmet was a radio frequency scanner, one capable of searching through the various channels and radio waves the Freedom Fighters might have been using. Furthermore, it also had some state of the art slicing and decoding equipment built in, so that even if they were using encrypted communications, the odds were that he could determine what was being said.

With a thought, he activated it, and it looked through dozens of frequencies over the next couple of seconds. When he located their channel he listened in, his brow furrowing behind his helmet as he attempted to discern the enemy chain of command.

"We're to be falling back," an authoritative voice barked out, and Norrack could tell that it was laced with a foreign accent of some sort. "Lay down suppressive fire and then make a break for the transports."

The observing killing machine activated a set of macro binoculars that had been set into his helmet's visor, zooming in on the source of the signal, the cockpit of one of the Wraiths. As the machine pivoted about he was able to grab a good look at the pilot's face. He used his suit's trans-com system to access the databanks within Robotropolis, pulling up a list of known Freedom Fighter commanders and ranking officers, seeing if there was anything that he could locate about this one that might be useful.

Then he found it.

The pilot was actually one of his priority targets: Antoine D'Coolette, son of General D'Coolette, and for once, Norrack was puzzled by the observation that he was making. The file on the coyote listed him as a 'weak link' within the guerillas' organization. As a matter of fact, there were so many recorded instances of borderline misconduct and gross cowardice in the face of an enemy that the ARC trooper was surprised he was even on the front lines anymore.

All of the information, however, seemed a near direct contrast to what he was observing here. This soldier was calm, in control, and calling out precision strike orders that were leaving the rank and file bots as little more than hole filled scrap. Either he had been mistaken in his identification of the enemy soldier, or there was something that the data files had overlooked. Either way, the cyborg knew that he would have to proceed with caution.

Finally, he decided that this apparent officer had to be the first one to die. He would decapitate this section of the rebel command in one fell swoop, and at the same time eliminate one of the light assault craft, as they appeared to pose the greatest threat. After that came the pillbox, and finally, the guerilla soldiers themselves.

His mind made up, he dashed towards the battle, heading for the nearest wraith, which appeared to be the more aggressive of the two as well.

The Swat Bots were good for something, despite their sub par combat skills, the ARC trooper reasoned as he drew near, for they provided a convenient smokescreen, keeping their foes so wrapped up that none thought to look over their shoulder and see if anything had managed to flank them or sneak in from behind. It was a fatal error that was often made in the heat of combat, as many a doomed soldier had learned the hard way. It was also a lesson that Norrack excelled in teaching his foes.

Breaking into a full out sprint, he quickly hit his top speed. He ran with his body angled forward slightly, his claws and energy blade behind him, his eyes narrowed behind his visor as he stared intently at his target.

As he was nearly upon the Wraith, the raccoon manning the rear gun appeared to spot him. As quickly as the Mobian could, he shifted his aim and began firing at the ARC trooper. The cyborg responded by jumping and twisting, landing a full twenty feet away from where he had leaped, all the while angling himself towards the fast moving craft.

A second leap put him in striking distance, and with his enhanced reflexes, the next few moments were almost in slow motion. The gunner frantically tried to raise the weapon he was operating to intercept the cyborg, but he simply wasn't fast enough. The terror was evident in his face, as he realized that he wasn't going to be able to stop the killing machine that was upon him. An instant later, Norrack passed by, lashing out with his kaiburr sword, cutting through the cannon and the soldier who had been operating it.

Now he had only to take care of the pilot.

* * *

Antoine heard his gunner scream, followed by a sudden lurch as if his craft had been hit by something. For a moment, he feared a Jackhammer had hit them, and they were about to be blown to bits. However, the explosion did not come, and for some reason that made the coyote all the more uneasy about the situation.

"Gause, you okay?" the coyote inquired, though he somehow knew he wouldn't get any form of response.

In that, however, he was wrong to a degree. He did indeed get a response; it just wasn't one that he'd been anticipating. A second thump resonated throughout the vehicle, and Antoine gasped as a figure landed upon his armored cockpit canopy. Instantly, he knew it to be the ARC trooper, and guessed what fate had befallen his gunner and what fate was about to befall him if he didn't act quickly. Even as the cyborg killing machine reached back with his kaiburr sword, Antoine snatched his Wraith into a hard turn, hoping to throw Norrack off. However, the ARC merely buried his vibro claws into the canopy, where they came down perilously close to the coyote's chest.

But, as the ARC prepared to finish this target off, the other Wraith would prove to be Antoine's salvation, the gunner on board having observed what was happening.

The plasma bolts slammed into the cyborg, and Norrack understood the danger he was in as an alarm inside his helmet began to warble, warning him that his shields were about to flat line. In an instant, the ARC trooper had retracted his claws and rolled off of Antoine's Wraith, hitting the ground, and making certain that he was out of the way of the speeding craft. Just because it was in the air didn't make getting caught under a hover craft safe. Those repulsors would crush anything that got beneath them, and while the ARC had great faith in his armor, he had no desire to test it against something like that.

He shields began to recharge, but he knew that he had to act fast, as the shouting over the com link channel indicated that every soldier here was now alerted to his presence.

It was time for him to roll out his big gun, so to speak. Concentrating, he brought his plasma caster up, and aimed for the assault craft that had been shooting at him, as it was currently the most dangerous thing on this area of the battlefield. The end of the caster began to glow, and once more the targeting reticule appeared in his HUD. He kept moving all the while, trying not to let the gunner get a bead on him. Fortunately, the fact that his aiming mechanism was literally a 'look down, shoot down' type mechanism made it much easier for him to keep a lock on while he waited for the caster to charge up.

Finally, the crosshairs began to flash and a beeping noise let the ARC trooper know that all was ready.

A single thought later, and a white comet shot across the battlefield, heading straight for the Wraith. The gunner saw it coming, and tried to shout out a warning to his pilot, but it was too late. The ball of fire slammed into the light assault craft, and what might have passed for a small sun consumed the vehicle. As the explosion fell back in upon itself, forming up into a rough mushroom cloud, those who had turned to see what had caused it could only gape at what they saw.

There was almost nothing left of the craft, just a small amount of the chassis that blue hot flames were clinging to. The crew was completely gone, not even bones or shards of armor remained to tell of who or what they were. Even the ground itself was red hot, heat distortions wavering up as the crater glowed a bright red. In fact, the blast had been so hot that those with keener eyesight could actually see molten glass running down to pool in the center of it.

Antoine could only look on in horror as he saw what had become of his wingmen. There wasn't much he could do however, as he had only about eighty shots left in his rotary cannons, and he somehow doubted that as fast as they went through ammo, that his guns could hit the ARC before they ran dry.

And the killing machine was still doing what it did best. Another charge up shot slammed into the pillbox, and it too was consumed in an explosion of white plasma.

By this time, the infantry soldiers in the trench had realized just what it was they were up against, and had begun to divert most of their fire towards the ARC, who was finding himself hard pressed to avoid taking hits, especially due to the fact that it would take a while for his caster to recover from those two overcharge shots, meaning that he was basically stuck with single shot mode for the next minute or so. He had one major edge that the Freedom Fighters here did not, however, and he was taking full advantage of it: he could move around far more easily than the troops in the trenches could.

Those manning the Lex plasma cannons were the first be cut down by the ARC trooper's plasma caster, burning spots in their foreheads indicating where precision shots had slammed into their heads. After that, the cyborg vaulted towards the earthen ditch, landing in it and activating his flamethrower. Trapped like rats, the guerilla soldiers could only watch the stream of fire approach them, silent prayers and thoughts of the next life, of seeing friends and family who had passed on filing their minds as they realized they were not long for this world.

Antoine wished he could drown out the screams that echoed over his comm., screams that were cut short as the flames destroyed their mikes. The sight was also something he would take to his grave, the sight of his comrades in arms flailing about, their bodies like torches.

Those who were out of range of the stream of flames fared no better for the most part, those who did not immediately flee dying as the ARC trooper launched himself into the air before he came down upon them with his melee weapons activated. Norrack showed no mercy, men and women alike fell before him, slashed, stabbed, impaled, it was a horrifying sight to behold.

Knowing there was nothing he could do, and that staying where he was would only get him killed as well, Antoine sped towards the western edge of the village, hoping there would be something he could do there, even if that meant just drawing fire away from the transports.

* * *

"Come on, move, move!" a soldier shouted, motioning for his comrades to hurry up and get onboard.

Sally glanced up from Nicole's screen, which was providing her with a small map of the village, and markers that pointed to where the enemy was advancing upon them. The jaws of the trap were nearly shut, if they didn't act soon, all would be lost. Indeed, reports indicated that the fringe defenses had already been destroyed by either Mecha, Norrack, or a Swat Bot offensive.

She hoped those valiant soldiers had found peace, and that their deaths had been swift. She took some grim consolation in the knowledge that while Mecha appeared to be as much of a sadist as his creator was, that Norrack was more akin to a Swat Bot in his nature. Every move, every strike was a calculated and efficient attack, designed to drop an opponent or obstacle as quickly as was possible. The ARC trooper did not appear to take any form of delight in making an adversary suffer. Indeed, despite the brutality that he fought with, the cyborg somehow gave off an aura of calm indifference, a cold distancing of himself from the battle.

Truthfully, she was also a little curious about what had happened between him and Tails. The boy had been helpless, yet the cyborg had hesitated, had not killed him when he had the chance, despite the fact that he appeared to have been ordered to do so.

Could it be, then, that Robotnik's hold over the ARC trooper, whoever he was, was not as complete as they had originally thought? That he might have been subconsciously trying to fight off the neural chip's control?

The princess shook her head, ridding herself of that particular thought, while bringing her free hand to the strap of her slug thrower. As much as she might have been horrified by the prospect of killing another living being, the cyborg had already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was capable of cutting them down by the score, and she would not risk the lives of her people upon some noble hope that the Mobian trapped underneath that armor would remember who he truly was.

Her thoughts drifted to the child she knew to be inside of her, the life growing within her, and her resolve hardened once again.

Too much was at stake, if she encountered the ARC again, she would not relent until he was dead.

"Come on, Sally, we've got to go!" came a voice that shook her out of her musings.

Uncle Chuck was frantically waving from the boarding ramp of the final transport.

The princess started forward, her gaze drifting to the others who were present besides the mechanized hedgehog.

Bunnie was also on the ramp, staring out of the ruins of the village with purpose in her eyes. Her Wraith had taken a nasty hit to one of its repulsors earlier that had made it nearly impossible to maneuver on the battlefield. She and Gunter had abandoned the vehicle before it had gotten them killed, though they had been able to save the Lex that it had carried, along with a couple of power cells for it and the rest of Bunnie's gear. Sally knew what she was looking for too: Antoine.

They'd heard no word from the coyote, only that he and his wingmen had been sent to try and shore up the defenses on the eastern flank, to try and buy them this chance. Then Norrack had attacked that region, and the ground squirrel remembered all too well the warning that Uncle Chuck had given them about the ARC's plasma caster being capable of anti vehicular combat.

But they couldn't wait for the royal guard. If he was dead, then there was nothing they could do. If he was alive, then the fact that he was in a Wraith might enable him and his gunner to get clear of the surrounding army and make a break for it.

Either way, sitting around and hoping for him to show up wouldn't help the situation in the slightest.

Inside the transport she could see her brother, Geoffrey, Rotor, Lupe, Reynard, Derrick, and a handful of other Freedom Fighters that she'd taken with her on raids over the years.

The walrus stood out the most, as he had also been able to save the plasma cannon he'd been operating, though he hadn't been able to grab as much ammo for it. It was braced up against the wall next to him, and he appeared to be giving it a once over, to make certain that it hadn't been damaged at all.

Her brother nervously tapped his foot against the floor, looking at his own holo map, waiting for all the transport pilots to call in that they were ready to go. In his left hand, he clutched at his remote detonator for the final minefield, ready to set it off and set their escape plan in motion.

Geoffrey was unreadable, as were Lupe and Reynard, the three of them having steely gazes at the walls of the transport. One thing was evident, though, they had the thousand yard stare upon their faces, and their armor was covered in burn marks and carbon scoring to indicate where they'd come within a hair's breadth of being taken out.

Derrick's face was also impossible to read, as it was still hidden behind his helmet. However, she could tell by his body language, the was he cradled his side, and his somewhat harsh breathing that the former Death Watchman was in a lot of pain, and though he was trying his best to hide it, it was evident to the princess that his defeat at Norrack's hand's had left him a little shaken.

Sally heard the last pilot check in as she took a seat, and though she was sorely tempted, she refused to let out a sigh of relief. They weren't out of this yet.

"Punch it!" Elias growled as the transport door slammed shut behind them.

"Yes sir," the pilot responded, gunning the throttle and causing the transport to lurch forward so quickly that they were nearly knocked from their seats.

The prince stared at the holo map, all of his concentration focused upon it. Their vehicles were getting close to the minefield, and he had to time this perfectly. If he activated them too soon, more battle droids would rush in and cut off their escape route. If he detonated them too late, the EMP shockwaves would take out their vehicles as well, meaning that any survivors would have to try and get away on foot. It didn't take a genius to know that the odds of that were not very good.

Closer they got, and enemy plasma fire began to hit them, rocking the transport, but doing little other than that, as the Swat Bots and Hover Bots mounted blasters lacked the firepower necessary to penetrate the armor of the craft under normal conditions. However, it still made all of the occupants uneasy.

"Now," Elias said to himself, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

He activated the detonator, praying he'd timed it right.

Sally watched via Nicole's screen as the indicators for dozens of Swat Bot formations suddenly disappeared, indicating that they were now offline. This was the best shot they were going to get, and all of them knew it. Various shouts echoed over her com link as the pilots tried to coax more speed and power from their craft, desperate to clear the gauntlet before more mechanized soldiers got into position. The ground squirrel held her breath, watching the transports shoot through the gapping hole in the robot army's lines, and all the while more units moved in to try and plug it.

After a moment, they too were in the now open channel, and everyone had their eyes closed, their lips moving in silent prayers as they hoped to get out of this.

The seconds seemed to be hours, so slowly did they pass, and it seemed like it was taking forever for them to try and break free of the ring of battle droids.

More and more of the transport craft cleared the final threshold, shooting off deeper into the forest, having successfully cheated Death. For a brief moment, Sally thought that maybe, just maybe, this would turn out okay.

Then she heard a warbling noise from the cockpit, and she leaned out of her seat slightly, loking up to see what was going on.

"Fierfek!" she heard the pilot swear, and she felt an icy hand grip her heart, as Nicole confirmed her fears a moment later.

"Warning, missile lock on detected," the computer droned, and as her screen flashed, Sally understood what was happening.

There appeared as though there had been a phalanx of Assault Bots moving up through the ranks to try and close the gap, and they had gotten close enough for their Jackhammers to get a lock on to some of the transports.

The last minute evasive maneuvers did them little good, and with mounting horror, the princess felt a thump along the lower side of the craft they were in. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze, and she almost felt like her life was flashing before her eyes.

Then there came a deafening roar, and everything went white. She had a distinct feeling of floating through the air, then a loud screeching noise as they skidded along the ground, followed by the sound of glass breaking and metal shrieking as it was bent in a way it was never meant to.

For a few seconds, she thought, no, she knew, that she was dead. However, a dull throbbing in the back of her head told her different soon enough, and with a groan, she sat up.

Everyone lay in a heap upon what had at one time been the roof of the craft. There were a few moans of pain and discomfort, but not enough for her to get a good assessment of who was still among the living.

"All right, sound off," she said, struggling to her feet, "who's not dead?"

"I'm fine, Sally girl," Bunnie said, raising a metallic hand and waving it back and forth a bit. "Though I certainly feel like I kicked the bucket."

"Did anyone get the number on that thing?" Rotor inquired, sitting up, a dazed look upon his face.

One by one, they muttered something and rose, and Sally found that they had faired better than she had hoped. Miraculously, all of them had survived the crash and explosion. However, that was a small comfort, as they had an army of Swat Bots that was no doubt hot on their heels.

They moved quickly, grabbing everything they could, before the pilot opened the back door. As they stepped outside, Sally found herself almost unable to believe they'd gotten off as easily as they had. The Jackhammer that had hit them had gone in among the repulsor lifts, meaning that the force field that they generated had taken the brunt of the explosion and shrapnel. A few inches higher, and the transport would have been gutted, along with just about everyone inside. Furthermore, it had also slammed up against a good sized tree, and had tried to wrap itself around it.

She heard noises off to her side, and looking out through the forest, saw that they not been the only transport to be hit. Three others had been shot as well, and their surviving passengers now scrambled to get into the woods and lose themselves among its many hiding spots.

"We've got to go, now," she said to her friends, and they quickly began to move, heading deeper into the Great Forest.

However, a complication arose when they discovered that they'd attracted the attention of a Swat Bot platoon that had been on the perimeter of the village, and almost before they'd gotten a hundred meters from the crash, they were under fire.

Sally cursed as she and the others threw themselves flat, trying to get to some cover and return fire. But, even as they were crawling along, someone came to their aid. A whine filled the air, followed by the sound of someone firing a heavy weapon on full auto. Daring to look up, she saw a Wraith come slashing in, its forward rotary cannons scything through the droid ranks. However, it ran dry halfway through its attack, and the blasters spun to a halt.

That didn't stop the pilot, whoever it was, as he gunned the accelerator and began to plow through the droids, pivoting himself sideways at one point so as to maximize the damage he was doing.

Seconds after the attack had begun, the enemy platoon was just a bad memory. The pilot then popped the canopy up, and hopped out, pausing just long enough to grab a few things from inside. Then he looked up at them and the princess saw who their savior had been, and felt relief come over her.

It was Antoine.

A grim smile was upon his face as she saw him belt on a vibro blade, an energy shield, and a slug thrower.

There was no time to celebrate, though, and they quickly began to fall back, not exactly knowing what their next move should be, but realizing that to stay were they were was not a very good idea.

* * *

Julian let a sigh of relief escape him as he looked at the camera footage in front of him. While he was extremely pleased at the fact that Knothole was now little more than a smoking ruin, the detonation of that final minefield had left him worried that the little rodents might manage to get away from him. However, while a good number of them escaped, footage from a destroyed platoon of his robots indicated that a number of the transports had been taken out. Among them, as if by some Goddess granted favor, were the princess and her little gang.

They were the primary targets of this mission, and if nothing else, Robotnik wanted them captured or killed. The psychological victory he would have over the rebels would be tremendous he were to roboticize the core members of the Knothole group, or to put their corpses on display.

A wicked smile came over his face, and he rubbed his hands together before returning his attention to Norrack.

"Norrack," he began, his voice dripping with evil.

The ARC said nothing, but the overlord knew that he was listening.

"It's hunting season," he finished.

The ARC trooper nodded silently, before taking off in the direction that the crashed transports were.

Julian's grin grew wider, if it was possible, and he chuckled to himself. The show he was about to watch would prove to be a most entertaining one indeed.


	14. The Hunt Begins

Hello everyone. Still a little bummed over here, but I keep on going, as they say.

I want to thank everyone of you who read the last chapter and left those kind reviews, and I hope that you got the replies to them this time.

I hope that this chapter is up to par, and that it doesn't put everyone off their appetite.

Lawyers: insert random disclaimer here.

That said, thank you everyone, once more, and may this chapter be worth your time.

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The Hunt Begins…

Breathe; she had to force herself to remember to breathe.

Her sides ached, her leg muscles screamed for her to stop, but still, she kept going.

They'd been running like this through the forest for the better part of three hours, all of it without a single stop and almost without a change in pace. About thirty minutes into their journey, they had been forced to slow down just a bit. This was due to Derrick's condition, as his age, combined with his busted ribs, made it to where it was nigh impossible for him to run quickly for a sustainable length of time. Indeed, Sally wondered how he'd managed to will himself to keep going, despite the pain he was in.

They kept moving, not daring to look back. They knew that they'd left the Swat Bots far behind, but that was not what they feared. Truly, what they were afraid off was the high pitched whine of Mecha's jet boosters, or that somehow a far stealthier nightmare had tracked them and even now, might have been waiting to the chance to get the drop on them.

The princess did a quick estimation in her mind. They were moving at a rate of about eight kilometers an hour, not too bad when one considered that the terrain they were on was a less than ideal one. Their objective was Blue Brook, a slightly smaller guerilla base that was approximately seventy five klicks northwest of Knothole. That meant that at the rate they'd been moving, plus their initial sprint, that they had about a good forty or so left to go before they got to where they were going.

A quick glance up at the sun and she guessed that they still had about three or four hours of daylight left, and they needed to make the best time they could if they hoped to reach the other base with their numbers relatively intact.

Another breath of air left her lungs, and the ground squirrel gulped down fresh oxygen as quickly as she could, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other for now.

* * *

Silently, he moved along through the Great forest, his gaze constantly sweeping about s he searched for his prey. The ARC trooper knew that he had to be cautious, as while he might have been able to hide in plain sight and had an enormous amount of knowledge on combat in this kind of environment, and the fact that his foes were battle weary and no doubt dead tired, his adversaries were still the ones who lived here, many of them for the vast majority of their lives. They were the ones who knew the terrain, not he. For all he knew, they could have booby traps that ranged from old fashion, but still very deadly, pit falls with wooden stakes at the bottom, to anti infantry mines they might leave in their wake.

When he discovered the enemy, be they alone or in a group, he would have to proceed carefully, as he could very well find himself in an ambush… but one that was not of his making. He knew that there was nothing quite as dangerous as that.

He looked up, and noticed that the sun was approaching its waning hours. Behind the visor, Norrack nodded to himself. The coming darkness would be an ally to him, for it would render him even harder to see. He, on the other hand, could operate with impunity.

As the light faded, the increased blood flow to his eyes became apparent. It would have been difficult to describe what it was like to one who had never experienced it. He knew that it was darker out, could tell that the sun no longer lit the way for himself or his prey. Yet, despite that, his eyesight did not diminish, though he could tell that his pupils were beginning to dilate in order to allow for more light to come in.

* * *

It was about thirty minutes later when he came upon them. He heard them before he could see them, as they moved through the underbrush quickly, making a slight rustling noise as brush parted before them. He was surprised, truth be told, as he'd almost missed the sounds they were making. Norrack then realized he'd seriously underestimated how quietly the Freedom Fighters were capable of moving despite being weighed down by their weapons and their armor.

They were trying to get as far as they could before night came over them, and sheer exhaustion forced them to stop. Still, the ARC believed that these soldiers had enough adrenaline left in them to call upon it once more if they needed to. Thus, he opted for observation at first.

The first thing he noticed was that this was not the group he was after, as none of his primary targets were within it. While this did cause him a mild amount of irritation, the bright side was that he didn't have to worry about trying to take one of them alive, a process that was always somewhat complicated.

Now that he had decided that he was going to eliminate the entire group, he had to come to a decision on how he was going to go about it. Once again the cyborg managed to keep up with the group, always following just beyond the trees, lest his distinctive blur give him away to some sharp eyed soldier. All the while, he looked over the troops, seeing what weapons they had, who was alert and who was just running off of instinct.

The two soldiers on the far left side of the group appeared to be the ones who were the most 'eyes up and down range' so to speak, and thus, the greatest threat at the moment, as no one in this squad appeared to be carrying a slug thrower of any sort.

The hunter waited for them to pass by, and then, once he was certain that no one was looking in his general direction, he leapt up. The nearest branch was more than forty feet off of the ground, beyond even his formidable jumping capabilities. However, he'd already figured that into his calculations. His claws extended, but this time, he did not activate the power generator for them. As such, their serrated tips acted more like a grappling hook than a lethal weapon.

He sunk them into the side of the tree, and then used the trunk as a brace, pushing off of it and leaping out again. From there, it was a simple matter to grab the branch and use his momentum to flip up onto it. The branch creaked as he put his weight down upon it, making him wonder for a moment if it would hold him. It also made him wonder if someone might have heard it.

Looking down upon the group, he could see, much to his relief, that they were moving on, either not having heard the noise, or perhaps dismissing it as one of the many lower life forms that used the trees as a means of getting from one place to another. Regardless, the cyborg knew that he would have to be less careless in the future, and began looking for larger limbs that would be less likely to betray his presence. With his enhanced vision, he quickly located a prime route, and he leaped forward.

It was a good twenty feet to the next branch, but he cleared the distance with ease, hardly stopping before he pivoted slightly, and jumped again, this time crossing over above the heads of those he was following, landing without a sound and trying to get up into position for the next phase of his stalking. Another vault carried him forward, towards a branch that he knew he wouldn't be able to stand on, but that would aid his forward movement. He reached out and grabbed it, flipping all the way around, before launching himself towards the trunk of the next tree.

With a thought, his claws were out, but as before he did not turn them on. Using his momentum, he flipped to where he was upside down, apparently holding himself to the tree's trunk by sheer force of will. With tantalizing slowness, he watched his prey approach. He could feel his adrenaline start to spike, and he had to force himself to be cautious, and let them come to him.

Finally, they were in range, and he braced himself, before retracting his claws and leaping out. The two alert guards were the target of the assault, and true to their nature, they were able to spot the blur moving in at them in time to call out an alarm. However, that was about all they were able to due before the ARC trooper was upon them. The first one attempted to raise his rifle, but both he and his gun were cut in half before he could pull the trigger.

As for his comrade, Norrack had designated him to suffer a different fate. With a ferocious backhand, he knocked the Mobian's weapon from his grip, before going down and performing a sweep kick that had the canine prostrate upon his rear, completely helpless as his foe reached out and grabbed him around the ankle. With a scream that would have sent chills down the spine of the bravest person, the dog disappeared into the foliage, the shaking bushes and plants being the only trail he left.

Distantly, over the cries of his captured prize, the cloaked cyborg could hear the squad's leader telling them to flee, and he couldn't help but smirk underneath his helmet. As if they could flee from him like this, by blindly running in hopes of putting some distance between them. These soldiers were completely forgetting all that they knew of the area around them, and in their panic, were now leaving him a trail that a nearsighted six year old could follow.

After about another minute or so of travel, he felt he was a sufficient distance away from the group that he could enact the next phase of his plan. The soldier behind him was still crying out, though, and he would need to be silenced before the ARC trooper could continue. In a flash his vibro claws were out, and in a blurring fast movement, he'd given the canine a new pair of smiles across his throat. The man gasped and flopped about for a bit, but the cries could no longer come through his torn windpipe.

Waiting patiently for him to expire, Norrack deactivated his shields, as they would just get in the way of his plan, the ARC went to work, his claws flashing again as he brought them down over the trooper, splitting him open from his chest to his groin. He then neatly and efficiently removed the canine's innards, leaving them in a pile on the ground. He didn't bother to clean his armor or weapons off for the moment, as the copious amounts of blood he was now covered in from his work would only add to the shock value that he enacted upon his targets, something that, in the opening moments of the fight, would be crucial.

After he reactivated his shields, Norrack slung the corpse up onto his shoulder, before rushing off, moving with a surprising amount of stealth and silence considering that he was now doing a good sixty kilometers or so an hour through thickly forested terrain with a body over his shoulder.

It did not take him long to get back up with the rest of the fleeing rebels. They were still moving fast, however, and the cyborg knew that he'd have to be swift in order to pull of what he was planning. He also knew that this wouldn't be easy to pull off, as the cloaking field that covered him did not extend to an object as large as the body he was hauling with him, which was to say nothing of attempting to climb one of these trees with it. Still, he knew he had to do this if he was to retain any hope of catching the princess' squad.

Willing himself to move faster, the ARC trooper got a sizable lead upon the guerillas, and then looked about for a tree. It didn't have to be a tall one, just one that had a branch that stuck out over the path that his enemies were using, and one that would be easy enough for him to scale before they were able to catch up with him.

Luck was with him, apparently, for an oak that met the criteria caught his eye. Knowing that every second counted, Norrack raced for the tree and jumped. He hit it squarely on, and wrapped his legs as far around it as he could manage while jamming his claws up to their hilts into its tough bark. Grunting with the exertion, he dragged his legs up, paused, and then warped them around this slightly higher position. He then retracted his claws for a brief instant, before lunging upwards and stabbing them in again.

Three times he had to repeat this maneuver, before he was able to toss the body on his shoulder off onto the branch, which was thankfully wide enough that he didn't have to worry about it falling off. This made it much easier for him to get up there himself, and he quickly got into position. It was not a moment too soon, as he could already hear the Freedom Fighter squadron approaching him.

They rounded a slight bend in the path coming into line with him. However, while they were still running around like a chicken that had had its head cut off, they were scanning the forest around them as alertly as they could. Unfortunately for the soldiers, though, none of them thought about the possibility that Norrack might repeat his aerial tactics again so soon, and no prying eyes searched the trees.

Thus, they were completely caught off guard when the corpse of their slain comrade was dumped right in front of their path, completely gutted and with a look of utter horror etched into his features.

They paused, frantically staring about in an attempt to find the killer that they knew had to be close by. They found him sooner than they had expected, for Norrack had deactivated his cloaking mechanism as stood for all the world to see. One of them cried out, pointing as he raised his weapon. The ARC trooper chose that point in time to leap down and begin his rampage.

Covered in the blood of his victim, he looked every bit like a demon from the Nine Hells that Chaos had loosed. The sheer spectacle that he presented bought him a few seconds of surprise, and that was all that he needed.

He jumped forward, claws extended and his kaiburr sword drawn. He twirled around as he passed through the closest two foes. The two soldiers suddenly gasped, blood flecking upon their lips as they tried to bring their arms up to their chests, one of them sporting twin gashes along that region while the other one simply fell to the ground, his body parts separating as he did so.

The ARC trooper vaulted forward after that, hitting the ground and rolling, coming up next to one of the soldiers before sweeping her off of her feet in a manner similar to the soldier he'd captured earlier. However, as she was falling, Norrack suddenly jumped up, slamming his right kneecap into the center of her back. A sickening crack echoed throughout the forest in testimony to her now broken back. While she might have been paralyzed by both her injury and the sheer force of the blow that had been behind it, the cyborg knew that she was still a danger. After all, one didn't need use of one's legs to operate a blaster. Thus, he dispatched her with the same ruthless efficiency that he had used on the earlier victims of his assaults. Reaching back with his energy blade, he plunged it up to the hilt into her chest. Such was his speed that the girl was dead literally before she ever hit the ground.

He felt a pair of impacts, and a quick glance up at his shield meter indicated that he was indeed taking fire. Twisting about, he was able to dodge the next two blasts, bringing up his own ranged weapon and letting loose with a pair of precision bursts. The two soldiers survived the first two blasts, their armor taking the brunt of the impact and heat, but in both cases, the third one was the charm, ripping through their protection and flash burning their vital organs. They dropped without so much as a sound, their eyes starring up into nothing as their last breaths left their body.

He heard a whine from behind him, and another plasma round slammed into his shields. A growl filled the air inside of his helmet, as his shields dropped down to three quarters strength. Pushing off of the ground, Norrack went into a back flip, getting a good view of his adversary, a female mouse. Another round homed in, meant for his visor, but with a lighting fast move, the ARC trooper brought his energy sword down and sent the shot streaking back at its sender. The bolt hit her in the arm, and she instinctively brought her hand up to the wound as her face twisted in agony.

That would prove to be a fatal error, as Norrack hit the ground and immediately sprinted for her. She gasped, and but found no air to scream as the vibro claws sliced into her diaphragm. Norrack twisted slightly, hooking his talons further into her, before spinning about and retracting them. The unfortunate soldier flew out into the woods, her corpse rolling to a stop some thirty odd feet away.

There were just three soldiers left in the patrol, two felines and a fox that Norrack believed to be the squadron commander. The two rank and file soldiers continued to blaze away at him as best they could with their plasma rifles, while the leader dropped his weapon to the ground and drew a vibro blade, apparently thinking it would come down to a melee contest.

He was right, as a burst from the ARC trooper's plasma caster and a blast from his flamethrower put the other two soldiers out of commission, one falling to the dirt, while the other flailed about before slumping down as the fires consumed him. The cyborg charge at the leader, both of his weapons cocked back and ready to strike. They met a moment later, energy sword and vibro blade clashing harshly against each other.

Norrack took advantage of the fact that he had an offhand weapon at his disposal, and attempted to rake his claws down the fox's exposed right arm. His foe was good, however, and ducked back out of the way of strike, before thrusting forward, trying to get the ARC's own forward momentum to impale him. The commando's response was to simply leap over the Freedom Fighter's head and come down behind him. His strikes missed, however, as the vulpine soldier had leaped forward as soon as he had realized what was happening.

Unfortunately, that evasive maneuver would not be enough to save him from his fate. The fox got up and turned around, only to fine the ARC trooper barreling down at him. He tried to raise his blade in defense, but he was too late. Norrack shoulder charged him, actually picking him up and propelling him helplessly forward. A second later, he felt his back crack painfully against the hardened trunk of a tree.

That pain was swiftly drowned out by a second surge of it, this time coming from his arm, and as he looked over, he saw that the cyborg had literally pinned him to the tree with his vibro claws. Frantically, he tried to strike out with his bare fist, as the impact from the tackle had caused him to drop his vibro blade. With effortless ease, Norrack reached up and caught the blow before it ever hit him. He then tightened his grip, slowly squeezing the soldier's wrist until the bones were ready to shatter.

The soldier stared defiantly back at the hunter, more enraged than frightened by the blood that dripped from the ARC's armor.

"Where is the princess?" Norrack inquired, leaning forward slightly until his visor and the soldier's face nearly touched.

"Go feck yourself!" the Mobian spat back, both figuratively and literally.

Norrack ignored the spittle running down his helmet, and instead simply twisted his talons, drawing a gasp from the guerilla as more muscle and flesh were ripped and torn.

"I know this hurts," the cyborg continued, while applying just a tad more pressure to the wrist he held in his hand, causing the bones to groan in protest. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Forget it!" his prisoner snarled, determined not to aid this killer in any way.

The cyborg almost sighed then, though he had to admit that he was surprised by the fox's ability to resist the pain he was inflicting, and he wondered if they received training on how to withstand this kind of interrogation. Nonetheless, though, he needed the location of the princess' group, and one way or another, this man was doing to aid him.

He released the wrist he held, before reaching back, and slamming his fist into the Freedom Fighter's stomach with enough force to blast the wind from him. A second blow, this time to the temple, rendered his prisoner unconscious.

He suspected that his true prey, the group that he was really supposed to be after, was off to his east somewhere. Thus, he quickly slung the fox up over his shoulder and began to run in that direction.

* * *

It took him nearly an hour to find them, as they were moving with a considerably greater amount of stealth that the previous group had. They were still some distance off, but the ARC trooper knew how to draw them to him.

A groan filled the air, and he realized that his prisoner was starting to wake up. Perfect timing he thought. He pulled the Mobian down, the impact shaking the fox back to full alertness. Once more, he glared up at the masked killing machine. However, Norrack did not speak this time, but simply extended a single claw. The guerilla captive seemed surprised at first, as he apparently didn't know that the two blades could operate independently of each other. However, that surprise quickly became fear as Norrack pulled him up off of the ground, staring him in the eye again, while ominously twisting his left arm back and forth, the silvery metal of the talon catching the last few moments of sunlight.

Quickly, the ARC began his work, stabbing the talon in just below the skin of the soldier's left arm, before carefully and expertly dragging it down.

A bone chilling howl of pain split the sky as a patch of fur, skin, and armor hit the ground.

All the while, the cyborg said nothing, but he activated his camouflage, knowing that the fox's cries would surely bring the other group running.

* * *

She heard it, the horrifying scream that echoed through the Great Forest. She stopped, her fur standing on end, and she looked about. The others had heard it too, by all accounts, and every one of them, her brother included, was now looking to her for guidance.

She knew that Norrack was likely out here, and that it might be a trap, but her heart would not allow her to leave someone like that.

"Come on!" she shouted, motioning for the others to follow.

Though she moved as quickly as she dared, she did not throw caution to the wind. If the ARC trooper was indeed out here, and was the reason for that scream, she could not afford to be careless. One wrong move could get them all killed, and enough of her people had already met the Grim Reaper today.

The scream came again, and then a third time. Each time it washed over them, everyone present thought of a thousand horrid tortures, wondering what could be happening to whatever poor soul was out there that would cause such cries.

Finally, after about three minutes, they came into a slight clearing, and the sight that met their eyes was something they would never, ever forget. Sally, Elias, Antoine, and even Lupe and Reynard, who had witnessed firsthand the brutality that Norrack was capable of, had to bit back the urge to relieve themselves of their last meal.

The cloaked killer stood in the center of the clearing, a pile of something around his feet, though in the dim light she couldn't' make out exactly what it was. In his right hand, he clutched a something that seemed to be weakly thrashing and struggling. The reality of the situation didn't dawn on them until a second or two later, that the thing clutched in the ARC's grasp was a Mobian, his eyes wide in pain that no person was ever meant to experience. It was then that they realized what was at Norrack's feet, realized what he had just done to the soldier.

The cyborg had skinned him alive.

As if he had not been aware of their presence before, the ARC twisted, his blurred and distorted form slowly shifting until it appeared that he was looking at them. He dropped his quarry a moment later, and then sprang into action while the horrified Freedom Fighters were still trying to digest what they'd seen.

It was likely that he could have killed a good majority of them right then, but he suddenly heard his master's voice.

"Just one, my pet, just one," Robotnik said, his tone one of glee.

As he had been ordered, Norrack chose a target at random. A burst came from his caster, and a soldier dropped. Before the guerilla had even hit the ground, he was already fleeing through the underbrush.

So paralyzed by the scene were they, that no one even thought to raise a blaster and try to shoot at the fleeing cyborg.

* * *

Snivley looked pale as his uncle cackled fiendishly, looking up at the screen that provided feed from the camera in Norrack's helmet. While somewhat nauseated by what he'd just witnessed, the diminutive Overlander couldn't help but wonder why in the name of Chaos his uncle had just let the others go again. It had been a golden opportunity to blast them all to oblivion or capture most of them, whichever was best.

"Oh, did you see the look on their faces, Snivley?" Julian said as another fit of laughter overtook him, his large belly shaking with it. "I should have thought of this sooner!"

The overlord was most pleased with his new toy's performance. A complete Freedom Fighter squadron wiped out, the princess and the prince both located, and that marvelous little display.

"Sir?" Snivley inquired with a nervous frown upon his face.

"What?" his uncle snarled, glaring down at him with his crimson eyes.

"What should we do about the other fleeing squadrons, the ones that Norrack can not attend to?" the little man asked as he found himself fidgeting under that gaze.

Julian opened his mouth, before closing it abruptly and bringing his thumb and index finger to his large chin, a look of deep thought coming over his face. A moment later, he snapped his fingers, and pressed a button upon the arm rest of his chair.

Another screen lit up, this one showing the smoldering embers of what had once been Knothole. The Swat Bots marched around, gathering up the remains of the dead to be burned, while the few prisoners that had been taken were being herded up and prepared to march back to Robotropolis, and their inevitable robotization. The Spy Eye that was responsible for the image turned until it revealed Mecha, who now resembled every bit the triumphant general staring down at a field of conquest, a look of absolute delight upon his metallic face.

"Mecha," the overlord said, causing the mechanized hedgehog to look over in the direction of his voice.

"Yes sir?" he inquired as he saluted the Spy Eye, that fiendish grin still upon his face.

"I have need of your talents," Robotnik informed him. "Norrack is busy dealing with the princess and her group, but he cannot be everywhere at once. I do not want to risk those miserable rodents forming up and coordinating…"

He had been about to say counterattacks. However, as if the Goddess herself wanted to give him a good kick at that very moment, an explosion went off that rocked the command center. Snivley cried out and fell to the ground, and his uncle was once again nearly thrown from his chair.

The little man groaned as he got up, but a growl from behind him reminded him that he was not exactly in the clear yet. An all too familiar sinking feeling began to form in his gut, as he rushed over to a control station, trying to get his hands on as many observational probes as he could.

However, no sooner had he gotten access to them then another explosion shook the city. This one came from near the border, and even from this distance, Snivley noted with a bit of ironic recollection that it was the very transport production facility that Norrack had defended. A third blast came, this time along a power control complex, and he could only watch, helpless, as a third of the city went dark.

Even as the Spy Eyes began to show images of Freedom Fighter soldiers engaging Swat Bots all over the city, Snivley and his uncle reached a conclusion as to what was going on. His response was a somewhat terrified whimper. The same could not be said of Julian, who had gotten out of his chair and walked up behind his diminutive nephew.

"Oh, you clever little bitch!" he roared, slamming both of his fists down on the console.

A painful ringing sensation went through his flesh and blood hand, but his cybernetic one, driven by the force that only a machine could muster, smashed right into the console, burying itself halfway into it before it stopped. Sparks flew and crackled, and Snivley gulped and took a hesitant step away from his uncle, a bad feeling going through him that he was about to find out a whole new definition for the word 'pain.'

Unfortunately for him, that movement caught Robotnik's eye, and he barely had time to scream before the overlord picked him up with a single hand.

"Pull all battle droid units back around the control center, now!" he roared, causing a nervous sweat to break out on the forehead of his lackey. "We can rebuild everything else, but I will not lose the heart of my empire!" he stated, answering the question Snivley had been about to ask, before turning to Mecha, who appeared to be somewhat confused as to what was going on, as he could not see what they could.

"Mecha, hunt down and eliminate those fleeing rodents, but get every other available robot back here double time!" he snarled, dropping his nephew to the floor at the same time.

The android nodded, before proceeding with his orders.

Robotnik, meanwhile, stomped back over to the console on his chair, and opened up a line to Norrack. The cyborg was busy watching his prey from a discreet distance, as they had gathered around the soldier he had skinned. As always, he didn't verbally acknowledge his master, but the overlord knew he was listening.

"Norrack," he growled, his voice the very definition of rage and fury, "I am amending your orders. Dispose of the nonessential soldiers as you see fit. However, I want the rest of the princess' little friends taken alive. Do whatever you have to do to achieve this," he continued, his eyes now resembling twin red suns, his whole frame trembling with the anger he so longed to release. "Injure them, incapacitate them, maim them if you must, but do not kill them!"

The ARC trooper nodded, the camera inside his helmet slowly moving up and down as he accepted his new orders.

Robotnik then turned back to Snivley, who was already carrying out his orders, calling all available units back to protect the command center. It would take the army from Knothole hours to get here even if they were running at full speed, and by that time, there was no telling how much damage might be done. However, Julian vowed one thing, then and there: the princess, who he knew was responsible for this, and her little friends would be hunted down, and taken. He would take great pleasure in watching his pet assassin tear her group apart, saving her for last. Let her watch her friends fall before Norrack's unstoppable might, let her know what fate was in store for them and her. Hell, he might even let the ARC torture her for a bit, as he could always fashion replacement limbs for her after her robotization, as well as make any other repairs that might be necessary. As for that, oh yes she would be the last there as well. She would watch as everyone she knew, her friends, her family, and especially that little two tailed freak if he ever found him again, were turned into his slaves. Then, and only then, would he stick her in the roboticizer.

As per usual when his temper flared like this, he took his anger out on the nearest available target, which was once again Snivley. His teeth once more bared, and his pupils resembling pinpricks of hellfire, he looked down at his nephew.

"See to it that the defenses around the command center hold, Snivley," he told him, his voice laced with icy poison, "or when Norrack returns, _I'll_ see to it that he uses you to sharpen his claws!"

It was all that the little man could do to avoid soiling his pants right then. He knew his uncle meant every word of what he said, and after watching what the cyborg had done to that one soldier…

He put every ounce of his ability into the task at hand, knowing that failure would mean death.

* * *

The fox lay on the ground, thrashing about and moaning incoherently. To Sally, it became quite obvious that the… torture, for lack of a better term, that Norrack had put him through had completely and utterly shattered his mind and probably his hold on his sanity as well.

It was a horrifying, yet pitiful sight, and it drove anger into the heart of the young ground squirrel. Robotnik would pay for this, she silently vowed. Forget a formal trial or anything of that nature, the first chance she got, she was going to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. However, she did not delude herself, and knew that thoughts of vengeance were best reserved for a time when they were better able to enact it. Right now, Norrack was still out there, probably watching them even now.

A groan from below brought her attention back to the disfigured trooper. His eyes were upon her. They were blue, so much like Tails'… They seemed to be pleading with her, for what, she was not exactly certain, but she had a good notion. Her soul was filled with revulsion for what she knew she would have to do, so much that she had to remind herself that it was for the best, that there was nothing that they would have been able to do for this poor soldier, even if they'd gotten him into a bacta tank, he was past saving.

As if somehow reading her mind, Derrick walked up behind her, reaching down inside of his kama and pulling out his sidearm. He stuck his hand out towards her, grip first, and she took it from him. She pointed it down at the soldier, having to will herself to steady her aim, as she didn't want to cause him more pain. It was one thing to wish to kill the person responsible for all this, and quite another to be forced to kill someone out of mercy.

"I'm sorry," she said, so quietly that she barely heard it herself.

She pulled the trigger, and a staccato crack filled the air. The pulse shot hit the fox squarely on, and slumped further, a final, tortured breath leaving his body.

Unable to take her eyes off of him, she blindly thrust the pistol back out in Derrick's general direction. The artic fox took it from her, one look at her face, partially hidden though it was, told the Mandalorian all he needed to know. This was the first time that the young woman had ever been forced to take the life of another living being. He sympathized with her, as he knew from experience that the first kill, even though he used that word in the most liberal of terms in this case, was difficult.

He'd been raised from birth to fight, had had the knowledge that battle was a 'kill or be killed' scenario drilled into his head since he was old enough to walk, and he'd still hesitated just a short bit his first time… something that had nearly sent him to an early grave.

"That is no way for a soldier to die…" he heard one soldier, Antoine D'Coolette by the strange accent, murmur.

"Amen, _ner vod,_" he concurred, scarcely realizing that he'd slipped back into his native tongue.

_Ner vod—_my brother. It was the term his kind used when addressing their comrades, and here he was already using it with these people, using such an intimate term with the son of the very man who'd been responsible for the destruction of his people. War was funny like that.

"Let's set up camp somewhere," Sally said, yanking everyone's attention back to her. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't fancy stumbling around in the woods, blind, so that Norrack can pick us off at his leisure."

"What about the bodies?" Uncle Chuck asked.

"Strip their gear and bring them with us," she responded, looking back over her shoulder at him. "We'll wrap them up and hang them somewhere off of the ground. At least that way the scavengers won't get to them."

Nodding slightly, everyone hurried to do as they were told.

* * *

Night had long since fallen, and the princess leaned against a tree, sighing, unable to get what had happened today out of her mind. She knew she should get some sleep, that she'd need her strength for tomorrow, but she found that she couldn't.

Their camp was in another clearing, and about half of the group was asleep, while the other have stood a vigilant watch, thermal visors strapped to their faces as they kept an eye out for the silent killer they knew was near.

Her gaze drifted down to her stomach, and her thoughts turned to her unborn child. If she survived this, she only hoped that they were able to win this war before her baby was born. She didn't want her child to grow up as Tails did, with the threat of war, invasion, and annihilation always hanging overhead. This war had begun to steal the little fox's innocence long before the disastrous battle came. He'd wanted to come along and help on missions, never mind his age or the danger. She'd watched as he began to tread down the same path that she, Sonic, Bunnie, and all the rest had, the path of being forced to grow up too soon, a path where failure meant dying long before he should have.

"You should be getting some rest, my princess," Antoine said as he walked over to her, before turning back and keeping his gaze on the forest around them.

"I know, Antoine," she replied, her tone distant. "I've tried, but…"

"Hard to get the images out of your head?" came a tired and haggard voice.

Both turned and found Derrick walking over to them, his helmet off and one hand nursing his cracked ribs. The pain was evident in his amber eyes, but he seemed to be bearing it stoically enough.

"What do you want?" the coyote inquired, reverting back to his royal guard mode.

"Just need to get something off of my chest," the old warrior said with a shrug. "And there's something I need to know."

"What?" Sally asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Tails and Amy, are they going to be alright?" he asked, a tone that seamed almost like pleading in his voice.

"They'll probably be scarred for life, and Amy might have suffered spinal damage from that beam, but they should live." Sally told him in a grave manner.

Derrick closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly, before muttering in a dejected tone, "So I have failed again."

"What are you to meaning?" Antoine inquired, confused, though he once again kept his back to the Mandalorian.

"Remember how I told you I had that gut feeling, princess?" he asked of her, getting a nod in response. "Well, I've still got that, and there's something I don't want dying with me. It's something that concerns your son."

She knew he meant Tails. She might not have been the woman who'd brought him into the world, but she had raised him. One of the Mandalorians' strange quirks was the fact that despite being ferocious warriors, they were a very family oriented people with a very devoted sense of clan. By their definitions, she certainly qualified as the kit's mother.

"What about him?"

"He is the son of Amadeus and Rosemary Prower," Derrick said, looking her straight in the eye.

She said nothing. She wanted to, but she could not find the words, could not make them form. Apparently realizing this, the former Death Watchman continued.

"We've met a couple of times, but he wouldn't remember me. The last time that I saw Miles, he wasn't even a year old," he said.

"Were his parents…" she began.

"No," he responded with a vigorous shake of his head. "They were not Mandalorians, though Amadeus would certainly have been welcome within our ranks. Quite the opposite, in fact, he was a soldier for your father's army… and I owe him my life." He looked back up at her, noting the confusion. "The tale is long and complicated, and it starts at Dagon's Peak…"

* * *

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Okay, there's a good place to wrap it up.

Hope this wasn't too clichéd, and that you all found it enjoyable. That said, any advice, constructive criticism, ideas, or flames are more than welcome. Also, I would like some advice for booby traps that the good guys might set up. With that I leave you, and hope that until next time, the world treats you well.


	15. A Father's Story, Part One

Hello everyone, and I hope this week's been good to you. Had a little bit of trouble with this chapter, and I apologize for its deviation from the rest of the story, but I wanted to lay down a bit of history here, as it will be important for the sequels.

I also want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read it, and I hope it continues to be worthy.

Lawyers: I own nothing, no sue for you!

Here's chapter fifteen, hope you like it.

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* * *

A Father's Story, Part One

"Dagon's Peak was one of the bloodiest battles my kind ever engaged in," Derrick began, his eyes having a faraway look to them. "The Overlanders had intended for us to attack a different fortress, one that was about a hundred and fifty or so kilometers west of the outpost, and was considerably less defensible. But some di'kut went and got the coordinates screwed up. As a result, we went in with only about half of what we would have normally taken to attempt an assault on a fortress on a place like that."

"How did you manage it, then?" Sally inquired, curious as to how the Mandalorians had triumphed in the face of such opposition.

"I think it was because Canderous Merell was there with us," the old warrior replied.

"Who?" Antoine asked.

"Sorry," Derrick apologized. "I think you would probably better know him as Mandalore the Howler." That did cause recognition to appear on their faces, and so he continued. "Our leader was all that held us together, all that kept us going. Even so, it was a terrible struggle, even by our standards..."

* * *

The shockwave nearly blew him off of his feet, and he felt an uncomfortable temperature spike from inside of his armor. He let fly a curse and dropped to his belly, before crawling like a snake over to where his leader was.

Canderous was hunkered down against a rocky outcrop, calling out orders to the various squads, or in some cases, what was left of them. Their casualties had been atrocious, more than a third of his brothers and sisters now lay dead upon the field, and they were only halfway up the mountains. Derrick swore that when he found out what idiot had given them the battlefield intel on this place, he'd use his thek'la dagger to carve the man a new mouth to breathe out of.

Another explosion shook the mountains, and he looked up, as if expecting the rocks to start falling down upon them. Thankfully though, no such avalanche occurred, as they surely would have been in a bad way then. They had enough to worry about anyway, like how to get past those long range plasma cannons that were chewing them apart.

"Mandalore!" he shouted, trying to get his leader's attention over the chaos that surrounded them.

Even though he was surrounded by the rest of the Death Watchmen, Canderous was easy to spot. The timber wolf's armor was silver as opposed to their black, and the mythosaur skull embossed upon the face of the helmet was blue, instead of red.

"Derrick," he replied, his tone somewhat warm and harsh at the same time, "good to see you're still alive."

"Can't say the same for bravo group, though, Mandalore," he responded, a frown upon his muzzle. "Those accursed guns are shredding us down there."

"Tell me something I don't know," the Mandalorian leader responded grimly. "We can't press forward with those things bombarding us like that, but their too far away for Viola to try and take out their gunners."

In response to that last remark, one of the elite bodyguards stood up slightly, sticking her long barreled rifle, a dragunuv, as it was called, over the top of the outcropping. Derrick knew that the nests that were firing down upon them were outside of even that rifle's impressive range, but Viola could still use her scope to try and get a good idea of where the enemy was.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, looking to his leader, trying to ignore the sound of an explosion that echoed over his com-link, and the screams he could hear mixed in among it.

In response, Canderous activated his own communications array, putting out an all call to his soldiers.

"Alright, _ner vode_," he said, his voice calm now, as it always was right before he charged into battle, "these soldiers are trying to keep us pinned down so they can pick us off for sport, but we're about to give them a bit of a surprise." He reached down to his right gauntlet, flipping a part of it open to reveal a keyboard, which he quickly used to key in some waypoints which would appear on their HUDs. "These mark some areas that we've scoped out up here and should provide us with some cover while we move forward." He paused for a moment and drew his weapons, a pair of heavy disruptor pistols.

Under normal circumstances, merely being in possession of those weapons would have netted Canderous a life sentence in the deepest, darkest cell Mobius had to offer. Fortunately for him, though, was the fact that many employers were willing to overlook that little bit of law breaking if it got the job done.

Derrick would never forget the first time he'd worked with his Mandalore, and watched him make a kill with those guns.

A Mobian of some great standing had been being blackmailed by a gang, over what he didn't know, nor did he care to. Apparently, though, it was serious, as he contracted the newly appointed Mandalore to take care of them. Canderous had made the first kill, a clean shot through the head of one of the gangsters as he tried to close a blast door.

What made the shot so spectacular, though, was the fact that the blast door, seven centimeters of solid ferrosteel, had been covering that portion of the man's body when the shot had been fired.

Armor would not shield you from those guns, for a disruptor fired neither lasers nor plasma bolts, but a beam of energy tuned to a frequency that would cause most know materials to literally undergo a molecular breakdown. The beam was concentrated, so a shot wasn't as damaging as a conventional weapon would be, but that was a small price to pay for effectively removing ninety five percent of an enemies' protection right from the get go.

And now the Mobians that had killed so many of their comrades were about to feel the wrath of those twin guns.

"_Gratua cuun!" _his leader and friend shouted over the com-link, following it up with a frightful howl that he was so well known for.

It was a cry for them to avenge the deaths of their fallen brothers and sisters, a cry that was answered hundreds of times as the soldiers shouted the message back. As the battle cry ended, a new sound took its place, the sound of countless jetpacks activating almost simultaneously.

As one, they rose into the air, their armor catching the sunlight and glistening as they shot towards their targets. Their foes were wise however, and realized what they must have been intending to do. If the Mandalorian forces got too close, then the defending artillery would be unable to depress itself enough to get an angle on them. Furthermore, the plasma artillery and mortars that they were using only detonated after impact, and were nearly useless against a flying target.

This was not to say that Derrick and his fellows didn't get another warm reception at the hands of the Mobian defenders. Quite the opposite in fact, their rapid rate of travel brought them within range of multiple LEX-275 nests, which wasted no time in opening up on the attackers.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Canderous shouted, and the troops immediately did just that, diving and weaving, scattering across the skies in an attempt to present a less concentrated target.

Even so, many were cut down before they could reach cover. Derrick saw a trooper off to his right suffer such a fate, a round tearing through his armor and into his jetpack. The fusion cell inside the device went off like a bomb, exploding and propelling shrapnel everywhere. A charred body fell out of the fireball, and ironically the strength of the armor he wore might have actually protected him from the fire and metal so he could die upon impact.

Most of them, however, were able to reach their waypoints, and they immediately took cover behind the rocks. Now they were close enough to return the favor that their foes had been giving them.

Almost before he had landed, Viola was in position, her rifle propped up on the rocks. It took her all of three seconds to take out a gunner, a yellowish red beam of energy coming from her sniper rifle. The machine gun nest went silent, and she shifted her aim, before taking out another one.

It was an action that was repeated over and over again, as the snipers got into position. The standard infantry soldiers, like Derrick, assisted as best they could, which usually revolved around throwing down buster rockets to either distract the enemy or to obscure their line of sight while the snipers got their targets lined up in the crosshairs.

It was then, at that moment, that Derrick knew the battle would be theirs. They would once again triumph in the face of impossible odds. His spirit soared and he could not repress a grin. It was all a matter of time now. The causalities would still come in, but he knew this would be a victory remembered for a long time.

* * *

"It took us a couple more jumps to get into position to storm the complex, and we still took heavy casualties," Derrick continued, a grim smile upon his face. "But once we were past the main entrance, it was all over, and every single soldier involved, Mandalorian or Royal Army knew it."

"How were they to knowing that?" Antoine asked, his tone somewhat confused.

"Because the complex was filled with narrow corridors," the old warrior responded. "Normally, such a design would aid the defenders, because it forces the battles to be more… individual, you might say, and they have a nasty habit of becoming meat grinders. However, if the attackers are more skilled than the soldiers defending those corridors…"

"Then they hold the advantage," Sally surmised.

"Exactly," Derrick replied with a nod, "and whoever was in charge of protecting the base knew it, because our com-links started picking up some pretty frantic chatter with his superiors back in Mobotropolis, who in turn fed them the usual nerf-drek about keep trying and they'd see what they can do, when everyone knew they'd be overrun long before any reinforcements could arrive."

"So what did you do?" the princess asked, though she already knew the answer.

"What we were ordered to…"

* * *

Moving down in a crouch, Canderous ducked out from around the corner, his twin pistols held up, ready to mow down the first thing that decided to fire back. No shots came, however, and it quickly became apparent to them that the passageway was deserted.

Derrick motioned for the others to move up, flashing an 'all clear' signal with his left hand. Slowly, he advanced up to where his leader was, before opening up a private comm. channel.

"What now?" he asked.

"Follow me," Canderous replied, slowly moving up towards a door at the far end.

Truthfully, he wasn't too surprised that there wasn't any opposition in this corridor. Once they were inside the fortress, the battle had swung almost universally in their favor, and the soldiers of the Royal Army had begun dropping like flies. This was evident in the hallways and rooms they had left behind them, corpses of their enemies lying all over the place, where they had valiantly attempted to hold their Mandalorian foes at bay. Alas for them was that while this attacking force was small, the soldiers in it represented the pinnacle of what the mercenary army was capable of.

Derrick guessed they must have been nearly out of soldiers to defend the complex, as he'd watched them die by the scores. More than twenty five soldiers had fallen by his hand alone, either taken down with clean shots to the head or center torso, or felled by the dagger hidden underneath his left gauntlet.

Now, they stood before the door to the command center, the very heart of the complex. Tapping the side of his helmet a bit, and fiddling with his communications controls, Derrick could hear the conversation on the other side of that door. He patched it through to the others, wanting to know what they made of it.

"Sergeant Tinian," came a voice filled with authority, "take your squad and fall back towards the hangar, the Mandos haven't managed to secure it yet. Grab a LAAT, and get back to Mobotropolis, let command know what's happened here."

"But sir," came another voice, this one much younger, filled with an indignant anger.

"No buts, Corporal Prower," the first voice said, "they've got to know, and even if you stay, there's no way in the Nine Hells we can hope to hold out against what those filthy mercs are about to throw at us. Now go!"

"I think it's time to go dynamic," Canderous murmured, backing away from the door slightly, and gesturing to Derrick with his head.

The Death Watchman nodded, leveling his right wrist with the door. A moment later, a high pitched shriek split the air and a buster rocket was on its way. It impacted upon the door, and literally blew it off of its hinges.

Howling once more, Canderous did something that only an amateur fool, or someone who was a true master with a jetpack, would have done. He activated it, throwing himself forward at the same time. With timing that was so perfect one might think this a staged reenactment of a battle, rather than the real thing, he sailed forward, and through the shattered bulkhead.

He deactivated it as soon as he was through, hitting the floor and sliding along to where some crates provided cover at the far end of the room. All the while, his disruptor pistols flashed, spitting beams of greenish black energy at the soldiers of the Royal Army. The Mandalore's loyal warriors were not far behind him, charging through and laying down as much suppression fire as they could.

However, the Mobian soldiers here were not caught as flat footed as one might think, and they returned fired with the viciousness that could only come from men and women who knew they were going to die, but were determined to fight until the last breath had left their broken bodies.

One such individual fired a submachine gun at full automatic at the encroaching Mandalorians. Several rounds connected with Derrick, and he staggered backwards as the impacts hit him like a flurry of heavy punches. Most were absorbed by his armor, but one tore through the armor weave protecting his clavicle. He growled and willed the pain away, leveling his charric rifle at the enemy soldier. A single shot rang out, and the powerful weapon's round ripped right through the man's chest armor, hitting him squarely in the heart. He dropped to the floor, his weapon clattering harmlessly to one side.

The defenders fought bravely, but they were sorely outmatched, and the battle was over in less than a minute. In less than sixty seconds, more than thirty Royal Army soldiers were down, dead, or seriously looking like they were. Still, Derrick knew better than to take an enemy at face value. One never knew if someone were playing opossum on you until you got close and checked for a pulse.

Canderous got up from behind cover, his shiny silver armor showing a few new carbon scoring marks where an enemy shot hat hit. Thankfully, though, none of them were over vital areas, so that even if the shots had gone through, odds were that their leader would still be alive and kicking. However, even as the timber wolf was giving his gear a once over, something happened that would change Derrick's life forever.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement, and he spun to face it. However, he didn't move fast enough, and he saw a fox, the words Prower, A. M. emblazoned upon an armguard of his armor, level a pistol and fire twice at his leader.

The shots hit home, but protected as he was, Canderous didn't even flinch. In a flash, though, his own weapons were leveled, and he returned the young man's cunning ploy with three shots of his own. The fox attempted to dive behind some crates, but his foe, who had probably seen more than fifteen times the number of battles he had, anticipated the move, and while he was able to avoid the first killing headshot, the next two tore a hole in his shoulder and lower abdomen.

Derrick was up and moving in a flash, leaping over the makeshift barricade and jamming the barrel of his charric against the other soldier's temple.

"Move and you're dead!" he snarled, more in anger at himself for not scoping this area out further… if those shots had been luckier…

The fox, Prower, growled softly in response, a growl that he could tell was one of barely suppressed rage. Truth be told, Derrick was surprised he wasn't writhing in agony, he'd seen Canderous' weapons in action often enough to know that being shot by a disruptor beam hurt like nothing else. The beams broke down fairly quickly after penetrating flesh, but they still did a lot damage before they dissipated.

It was only then that he realized that this soldier, who he guessed must have been almost a decade younger than he was, wasn't the only one alive. Many of the soldiers were slowly writhing in agony, some with wounds that were obviously mortal, such as one canine whose side had been ripped open, but some of them appeared to have wounds that were minor enough to survive.

Slowly, Canderous walked over to where he was, holstering his guns and looking down at the soldier that had fired at him. The large wolf then reached down, and picked the fox up with a single hand, setting him on his feet, while appearing to stare at his wounds.

"You'll live," he remarked, more to himself than to anyone else. "That was a brave move, kid," he said, genuine respect in his voice, "but next time, use a bigger gun."

The young soldier remained defiantly silent, those his blue eyes narrowed in anger. The Mandalore held that gaze, matching it eye for eye. For once, though, the unnerving, emotionless gaze of that visor failed, and the young warrior did not look away. After thirty seconds had passed, the silver armored warrior simply nodded, and after setting the soldier down, pivoted around to the rest of his bodyguards, clasping his hands behind his back, just below the start of his kama.

"Viola, Kalras," he said, and the two addressed Death Watchmen stepped forward, "find those whose wounds aren't fatal and stand them up by the far wall. After their wounds are seen too, take them down to the hangar get them on a drop ship, and send them home."

"Sir," Viola asked, cocking her head quizzically at her leader, "how do we heal them, we scarcely have enough bacta to see to our own wounded."

"Then find another way," Canderous responded calmly. "As for those that cannot survive without bacta injections… well, you know what to do." He paused, looking down at her, and then spoke with a tone that was sympathetic. "Let's make sure its quick, they've earned that much."

Derrick looked back over to the soldier. Prower stared back at him, his eyes showing the pain he was in, but refusing to give the enemy any satisfaction of a groan or the scream that must have desperately been trying to get out of him. The two wounds were bleeding badly, though, and he knew he had to seal those wounds, or it was possible that the trooper might die before he got back to the Mobian capital.

An idea came to him, and he ejected his thek'la, before walking over to where Viola and Kalras were. The latter of the two had a small flamethrower mounted onto the inside of his right gauntlet, and it would prove to be just the thing that the artic fox needed for this particular instance. He walked up, and tapped his brother in arms on the shoulder, before gesturing to his dagger. The other Mandalorian instantly understood, and turned on his flamethrower, though he kept the flame small. Carefully, Kalras ran the fire over the knife until it went from steel colored to an angry red.

With his dagger now heated to the appropriate temperature, Derrick walked back over to Prower, who eyed him warily, though he didn't move or try to fight. Derrick reached into his belt pouch, and produced a piece of battered leather, something he'd used before in situations like this.

"Lie down on the crates, and put this in your mouth," he instructed, and the fox did so, apparently realizing what the Mandalorian's intent was.

Derrick admitted that he was once more impressed by this young enemy warrior. He didn't protest or try to fight, though he doubtlessly knew that what was about to happen would hurt almost as much as being shot by those disruptor pistols had. Carefully, he placed his heated blade to the first wound, the one in the fox's side. There was a violent hissing noise, and suddenly the air reeked of burnt flesh and fur. The trooper's hands curled into fists, and he shut his eyes, his teeth biting down hard into the leather plug. Slowly, the Death Watchman rotated his weapon, cauterizing the wound and stopping the bleeding before it became life threatening.

Once that was accomplished, he quickly pulled the weapon out, and then focused on the shoulder wound. It was less serious, and he was able to seal it faster. Once that was done, he let the soldier catch his breath, before helping him to his feet and bringing him back over to where the rest of the non mortally wounded soldiers were.

One of them, a leopard that was apparently the Sergeant Tinian the commander had referred to, shot an icy glare at him, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light that almost made him appear to be psychotic. Derrick merely cocked an eyebrow behind his helmet, before looking over to his comrades.

"Let's get these soldiers on their way," he said, and Viola and Kalras nodded, before motioning for the troopers to move.

As they did so, he could see his Mandalore and the rest of the soldiers standing over the bodies of those who were too badly wounded for them to aid with such primitive methods. The prisoners apparently realized what was about to happen just as the Mandalorians leveled their weapons, each of them aiming for the head of the person they were standing over.

Shots rang out as Derrick and the others went down a corridor, before descending into the darkness.

* * *

"You killed them?" Sally asked, a look of profound disbelief on her face.

Killing prisoners violated one of those unwritten rules, the code of conduct for a battle. It was a line that was never supposed to be crossed, and knowing that the man across from her had been with a group that had done such a thing put a foul taste in her mouth.

"Such a thing was being most dishonorable!" Antoine snarled, turning away from his post and shooting a murderous glare at Derrick.

"Is it?" He shot back, though his tone was calm, weary almost. "Then I will propose a hypothetical situation for you two." They stared at him, not certain what to make of this.

"You have just stormed an enemy outpost, and you've taken control of it," he said, looking them both in the eyes. "However, the fight was a nasty one, and both sides have heavy causalities. You only have enough bacta to heal one group of soldiers. Who do you use it on? Who do you heal? Your brothers… or your enemies?"

The two Mobians in front of him remained silent, apparently realizing where this was heading.

"And once you've made that decision, what do you do about those that you have just condemned to death?" the Mandalorian continued, cocking his head at them. "Do you just leave them where they lie, to writhe and scream and flop about like a fish out of water while waiting for them to succumb to their wounds? Do you watch them suffer in pain and agony with knowledge that they are going to die, some of them hanging on for hours before the Grim Reaper finally takes them? Or do you make it quick? Do you end their suffering? A single shot to the head, swift and clean…"

"Kind of hard to argue with that logic…" Sally muttered, placing her chin in her hands.

"Yes, princess, it is," Derrick said, his tone somber. "It was not a task we particularly enjoyed, especially since they had fought so valiantly. But it was mercy, not malice, that guided our Mandalore's hand in that decision, and it is what we would have wanted done to us if the situation were reversed."

She nodded, while Antoine remained silent, though the coyote seemed to be deep in thought. A deep sigh left the artic fox, and his eyes grew sad. He stared down at the ground for a moment, before looking back up at them.

"A year and a half later, the Royal Army caught us at Malachor," he said, his tone grim and dark. "You know what happened there, I would expect that it was in headlines on every newspaper under Mobian control, celebrating the destruction of the 'dreaded menace' that we were." He paused for a moment. "They say that the Goddess has a plan for all of us, a role in this grand play we call life. I can't claim to understand it, especially after Malachor…"

"What do you mean?" Sally asked, looking at him intently.

"Once we got separated into little pockets of resistance, it was over. But we would not give up," he said, a fire in his eyes, "the Royal Army paid with blood for every single inch of ground they took. Still, in the end, their numbers beat us." He seemed to fall back in on himself after that. "It was there that Prower and I would meet for the second time. Canderous and I were all that was left of our battle group, but there was a third person with us, someone that my Mandalore was trying to protect with all of his might…"

"Who?" Antoine inquired, curious.

"His son, Jaster," was Derrick's response. "He was about seven at the time…"

* * *

He wanted to lower his head in shame, but he wouldn't. He would not give the enemy that had captured them that satisfaction.

He was the last, the last of the Death Watchmen. All the others had been killed. Viola, Kalras, everyone. He'd never run through a mission or a job with them, never joke with them, or anything like that. And then there was Jolee. He'd seen the artillery round that had landed among her squad, had watched as she'd looked over at him, their visors meeting one final time before the explosion engulfed her. Death was a part of a warrior's job, but it still hurt inside, and he felt like his heart had been torn out. He could only hope and pray that Brianna was safe.

Still, in a way, the dead might have been better off. Now not only did the shame of a defeat of this scale rest upon his shoulders, but he had failed, completely and utterly in his duty to keep his Mandalore safe. Slowly, he stared over to where Canderous was. He still had his armor on, though his helmet and weapons had been removed, and his hands were bound behind his back. He stood tall and proud, defiant in the face of his adversaries, as did his son, right next to him.

They'd been swarmed, the enemy had come in from all sides. However, whoever had been leading the squads was a complete di'kut. Their rush had been a reckless, blind attack, and before they'd been overrun, more than eighty soldier's lay dead around them. Now, the highest ranking enemy officer in the vicinity was a sergeant.

It was then that Derrick realized who that sergeant was. It was that leopard, Tinian, that they had spared at Dagon's Peak. He nearly laughed out loud for a moment, though the laughter would have been bitter indeed. What were the odds, he had to wonder? With a harsh sigh, he shook his head, before looking over to his leader. Tinian was getting up in Canderous face, though the spotted feline practically had to stand on his toes to get up past the wolf's muzzle.

"Not so big and bad, now, are you, 'Mandalore,'" the cat taunted, a smirk on his face.

Canderous said nothing, opting to play the role of the stoic. He kept his gaze forward, as if the Royal Army soldier wasn't even worth his notice. Derrick, however, was concerned by the look of sheer, wild rage in the cat's eye, one that almost gave the sergeant a psychotic appearance. He remembered that look. It was the same look the leopard had on his face at Dagon's Peak, only this time he was the one with the gun. He kept on with his ranting, some particularly vicious comments about the Mandalore's ancestors drawing him a death glare from Derrick and Jaster and some chortles from his men.

Finally, Canderous could take no more.

"I remember you from the battle at Dagon's Peak," he said, his voice calm. "You and your men fought valiantly there."

"And you repaid them with a gun to the head!" the leopard snarled, a yowl coming from the depths of his throat, while he bared his fangs.

"We showed mercy and respect to them, we ended their suffering," the wolf replied, calm and stoic as ever. "However, if you wish to avenge the deaths of your brothers and sisters in arms, I shall give you the chance. Have your men draw a battle circle, and you and I shall duel in it. I shall even give you the honor of choosing the weapons of choice."

"You are in no position to make any demand like that, Mando," Tinian said, spitting the last word as if it were a most foul poison. "I could put this gun to your head and pull the trigger right here, and there wouldn't be a thing you could do to stop me."

"You could," Canderous conceded, "but that would be a mark of an undisciplined man, of a person who is a soldier in name only, who uses that title as an excuse to kill."

That sent the sergeant into a rage, and he lashed out, throwing a punch, slamming his fist into the side of the Mandalore's head. Even from where he was, fifteen feet away, Derrick could hear the crack that resounded from the impact, but Canderous, though he did twist his head slightly, did not stagger or go down. Instead he slowly looked back down at the Royal Army soldier, a small smile tugging at the corner of his muzzle, as though Tinian's actions had just proven his earlier statement.

That unyielding calm in the face of death was more than the sergeant could take apparently. With a snarl, he placed his gun underneath the wolf's chin, and fired. The bolt tore through Canderous' brain, killing him so quickly that he never felt himself hitting the ground.

* * *

"So Tinian killed him, just like that?" Sally asked, surprised that a member of her father's army would so willingly violate the rules of his training.

"Yes, but that was not what truly enraged me about that day," Derrick responded, before noting her confused look. "Canderous and I entertained no delusions about what his fate was likely going to be. High ranking officers, especially leaders, have a notoriously low survival rate in the event of capture or defeat. No, we knew he would probably be tried for 'war crimes' or something, and be hung or shot before the end." The old warrior paused, and Sally though she almost heard a sob well up inside of him. "It was what happened just a few seconds later that drove me to a point of anger I never would have thought possible…"

* * *

As the body of the Mandalore hit the ground, a cry came out from little Jaster. The boy, whose hands had not been bound like his father's, threw himself at Tinian. The leopard was taken off guard, and before he knew what was happening, the young wolf had tackled him. Jaster was strong for his age, and tried to get a grip on the sergeant's throat. However, even his unusual strength could not help him against a man who had trained for years in the art of war. With a single hand, Tinian ripped the child off of him, and threw him. Then, with a grunt, the sergeant got to his feet.

Jaster had hit the desert rock pretty hard, and was struggling to get back up, blood dripping down the side of his head where he'd cut it as he'd skid. As he was on his knees, glaring up at the man who'd killed his father, he let out a small growl, and tried to get up the rest of the way.

Time seemed to slow for Derrick, everything moving in a sickeningly morbid kind of stop frame motion. He saw the leopard's eyes narrow, and the pistol in his hand start to come up. He tried to will himself to move, but the command simply would not go to his feet. His eyes wide, horror filling his soul, he watched the sergeant squeeze the trigger. A crimson beam of energy came from the end of the barrel.

It was then, at that moment that time did not slow for the Death Watchmen. No, it stopped altogether. In his memories, the image of that plasma bolt striking Jaster would be forever burned. He could see ever detail of the boy's face. The surprise, mingled with pain, and the flesh and fur on the left side of his chest disappearing as the superheated round tore into him.

Then time resumed its normal flow.

Jaster was blown off his feet, and landed on his back, as yelp of agony coming from him. With deliberate slowness, Tinian aimed once more, and a second bolt hit home, this one farther up and to the left of the first.

Only then did the command to _move_ finally seem to reach his legs. With a scream that held all of his rage and sorrow, his agony and his self loathing, Derrick charged the leopard. Damn the fact that his hands were bound, damn the fact that he was unarmed, he would kill this sergeant with his feet if he had to!

So chilling was the howl that he let out, so frightening was it, that the soldiers once more stood dumbfounded, not a single one raising a weapon as the artic fox shoulder charged Tinian, knocking him backwards. Coming around, Derrick raised his right leg, and his armored boot thumped into the side of the man's currently unarmored head. Tinian spun around dazed, and dropped to the ground, while his pistol fell from his grasp and bounced away. The Death Watchman swiftly followed him, slamming their heads together, before shuffling forward and placing his knee down on the man's throat.

Tinian's eyes went wide as his airflow was cut off, and he frantically tried to get the half crazed Mandalorian off of him, but found that he could get no leverage. Unfortunately for Derrick, the sergeant's squad finally snapped into action. They rushed forward, and pulled the fox off of their leader. As they did so, Tinian was able to pull out a knife, and lashed out with it.

Blinded by his fury, Derrick hardly felt the blow, but he knew, judging by the slick wetness that was running down the side of his head, that it was a deep wound indeed. The soldiers then grabbed him as best they could, twisting his head around to where his neck was exposed and ready for their leader to slash, if that was what he chose to do. It appeared to be good enough for the leopard, for Derrick could see him out of the corner of his eye. He drew the blade back, and got ready to burry it into his throat.

But the blow never came.

A shot rang out, and the knife blade went flying, blasted off at the hilt. Confused, Tinian looked over, to see who had dared to fire that shot. Derrick glanced as well, and then he truly began to wonder if the Goddess didn't have an ironic sense of humor.

Though a year and a half had passed since the battle at Dagon's Peak, Derrick still remembered the young soldier whose wounds he'd healed. Now that soldier stood before him again. His eyes were harder, more like those one saw with veteran warriors. A plasma rifle was gripped in his hands, its stock up against his shoulder. A squad of his own, much larger than Tinian's, was at his back, and there was a look of fury on every single face.

"What is going on here?" he growled, his voice having an edge to it that it didn't the last time Derrick had seen him.

"Just a prisoner that keeps giving us trouble, Prower, nothing you need to get your self righteous tail in a bunch over," Tinian said dismissively.

"As much trouble as that one there?" the other soldier growled, gesturing to Jaster with his rifle, before centering it back on the leopard.

"Look, this is my prisoner and I'll…"

"Not anymore he isn't, _sergeant,_" Prower said with a snarl, putting a lot of emphasis upon the cat's rank.

It was only then that Derrick noticed that the young soldier's armguard no longer marked him as a corporal, as it had at Dagon's Peak. Now, the rank bars of a staff sergeant were visible upon them, indicating that he was a full two ranks above the leopard.

Reluctantly, the men holding Derrick released him, letting him fall to the ground. As Prower's men moved into help him to his feet, however, growled, causing them to back off. He rose on his own, his eyes holding a murderous glare that caused several to back away from him.

"Mark my words, Tinian, and mark them well," the Mandalorian began, "put me in your most secure prison, in the deepest, most forgotten cell it has. I will get out," he said, his tone laced with fury, "and when I do, know that you will be a marked man. I will hunt and stalk you like the animal you are. You will never know rest or peace or relief, and when I finally break you, I will kill you for what you did here."

With that, he gave one final look at the bodies of Canderous and Jaster, before turning and following Prower.

* * *

He looked at the both of them, noting the horrified look on their faces. It was a shock, after all, to learn about such a thing. Killing a prisoner that had been trying to gun you down a few moments before was not something they enjoyed the notion of, as it seemed dishonorable and unfair. But to kill a child… that was something else entirely…

"I… My father heard reports…" Antoine said, looking down at the ground. "But…"

"Such a thing would be hard to prove," Derrick responded, in a sympatric tone, tracing one finger along the length of the furless scar on the side of his head, the one they now realized was a permanent souvenir of Malachor. "It's basically the word of one group of soldiers against the word of another. Let me assure you, though," he said, noting the frown on the coyote's face, "that while I am sure that Tinian was not alone, that he was the exception, not the rule. Most of the soldiers of the Royal Army conducted themselves with honor and discipline. Your father was also a very honorable man, and I have little doubt that he investigated any… incidents… to the best of his ability."

"What happened afterwards?" the princess asked, still trying to digest everything that she was being told.

"I was thrown into a cell in Mobotropolis," Derrick said. "I'd stay there for about two years. Then the coup came, and all the Nine Hells broke loose…"

* * *

&

* * *

Okay, hope that wasn't the pile of crap that I think it was. There will be one more chapter to this, and then it'll be time to get back to the hunt.

Assuming your still reading this, I hope you've found it enjoyable, and as usual any feedback, from advice to flames, is welcomed. I am still in need of booby trap ideas, though several good ones have been provided, so any help in that department will be embraced with open arms.

Thank you all, and have a great week.


	16. A Father's Story Part Two

Hello again, everybody, and I hope this update finds you in good health.

It might be a while before I update again, as this Sunday will find me moving off to Florida State University, where I shall attempt a major in creative writing, with a minor in history… and hope that I don't blow it… (crosses fingers)

At any rate, once more, I want to thank everyone whose read. Those of you who have reviewed, you have my sincerest gratitude, and for those of you who have not, I sincerely hope this story will continue to be interesting for you. (bows humbly)

Lawyers- I own nothing save the characters that are the product of my own demented mind, so leave me alone!

That said, here's chapter sixteen, may it be worthy of you time.

Also, I apologize for the wierd formating, but will not let me insert scene seperator bars as is the usual... should this change later on, the chapter will be re-edited.

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A Father's Tale, Part Two

As he stepped through the shattered doors of the History of Warfare museum, the screams and cries of the populace met his ears once more. All around, people were either fleeing, trying to avoid the patrols of the suddenly hostile Peace Bots, or they were getting caught in the attempt, being rounded up and placed onto massive transport crafts.

Derrick didn't know exactly what was going on, but his gut instinct told him that someone was tired of their old position in life. This had all the markings of a government overthrow in progress. Whoever it was, he supposed he owed them a bit of grudging thanks for setting him free, although he doubted it had been on purpose.

It had been half an hour or so since he had been able to escape from his holding cell. The leader of this coup had apparently attempted to halt any and all communications between the defenders by knocking out the relay stations set up around the capital. However, in doing so, the power plants had been damaged. This had the result of the maximum security cells in the prison where he was being held being deactivated. Without the force cage to keep him in place, the artic fox had quickly taken advantage of the opportunity to get out of there.

In the chaos, the guards seemed so occupied with either attempting to figure out what was going on or trying to hold of the now hostile battle droids that they weren't really concerned about an escaping prisoner or two. Thus, it had been relatively simple for him to steal a civilian vehicle to get to the museum, and then to locate where his armor and weapons were being stashed. While he might have been somewhat miffed over the fact that they had taken his equipment for a bloody trophy, at least they had kept it in good condition, and everything looked like it was ready to go.

He supposed he should also have been grateful that someone had had the foresight to stick a plasma cell recharger at the security guard station in the museum, as otherwise his charric would have been pretty much useless.

Now that he had his equipment and everything, it was time for phase two to commence, the part where he got the heck out of here and didn't look back. However, the hover car that he had taken would be left here. It had no weapons, no armor, and drew too much attention for it to be of any further use to him. Cycling his rifle, he charged down the steps of the museum, his adrenaline beginning to pound through his body as the knowledge that a battle was coming filled him.

It wasn't long before he ran across his first bit of opposition. A patrol of battle droids came thundering out of an alley. He heard a command to freeze, that he was under arrest by someone by the name of 'Robotnik' or something like that. Turning slowly, he looked at the droids. They were half again as tall as he was, and the ten of them had integrated wrist lasers pointed at him. They looked to be pretty heavily armored, but he had no idea how effective that armor would be. He knew one thing though, he had been taken prisoner once, and he would not have a repeat of that. He would either escape, or he would die trying.

"Drop your weapon and get on your knees, organic," the apparent leader droned, "you will not be warned twice."

Derrick said nothing, but instead threw himself to one side, bringing up his rifle and firing it. A four shot burst connected with the robot that had just addressed him. The plasma bolts ripped through the droid, and it collapsed in a heap, its circuitry sparking and popping.

The rest of the droids opened fire, blue tinged bursts of energy coming towards him. Rolling, the Death Watchman threw himself further out, blazing away at the group with his rifle. Normally, he would frown upon such an inefficient use of ammo, but at the moment, he was slightly more concerned with escape from this city.

In seconds, the fight was over, and Derrick marveled at the ease with which his rifle had torn through them. Apparently, whatever civilian roles these machines had been designed to carry out, heavy assault was not one of them. Their armor appeared as though it was simply for looks, not that he was complaining about that blatant flaw. Their targeting protocols were also not exactly top notch, as only one bolt had even come anywhere close to hitting him during the firefight.

For a moment, he wondered how in the world these things could be taking over the city. Then memories of Malachor surfaced, and he realized how: numbers. The sheer size of an enemy force could effectively render skill a moot point.

Grimly, he realized that any hope of him making it out of this predicament in one piece would revolve around him finding a group of soldiers to link up with.

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"It seemed like hours before I finally managed to find someone else fighting back among the chaos," Derrick said, his tone grave as he continued to tell about his past. "But, when I finally did, it made up for all the time and effort."

"So you were able to hook up with them and get out?" Sally asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Not exactly," the old warrior said, a rueful smile upon his face. "The first group I came across was the remains of a patrol. They'd been gunned down, all of them, with one exception," he said, emphasizing his point by holding up a finger.

"I am not understanding," Antoine said, scratching his head.

"Let's just say that the Goddess elected for me to dispense a little justice on the field that day…"

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The evidence of the firefight was everywhere. Shattered remains of the battle droids mingled with the bodies of fallen defenders. Score marks littered the walls, street, and more than a few windows had been shot out. His approach was quiet, cautious, for one never knew if these sort of situations might be a trap. As he drew closer, and managed to get a good look at some of the soldiers' faces, he had the nagging feeling that some of them looked familiar to him, that he'd seen them somewhere before. They didn't look like the ones who'd been responsible for guarding his cell, though, so who could they be?

The rhythmic stamping noise that the battle droids always made when they ran reached his ears, and he quickly ducked back into the shadows, thankful that his armor would help him to blend in. Almost as soon as he'd hidden himself, the droids came around the corner, their red photoceptors making Derrick wonder who had designed these things, as that presented a pretty inviting target.

The machines stopped, and looked about, and the Death Watchman wondered if he'd somehow given himself away, if some subconscious movement had alerted them to his presence.

"Heat signature detected," one of them droned, pointing to a pile of bodies, "retrieve and return subject for roboticization."

"Roger, roger," the others said, before moving forward, their blasters out.

Underneath the pile of bodies, they found the person they were looking for. Derrick surmised that he'd been feigning death, hoping that the patrols would pass him by. The person looked pretty battered, with a nasty looking wound on his left leg, which was probably the reason that he hadn't tried to make a break for it or something when they'd figured out he was there. Groaning, the man shook his head, and his helmet fell off.

It was only then that he recognized the soldier. Bile rose in his throat, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. It was Tinian. That was why these fallen soldiers looked so familiar, they were the very group that had laughed as Canderous had been tormented, and this was the very man who'd killed both of his charges in cold blood. A fury filled him that was as great as the day in which he'd sworn to kill the sergeant, and he made a check of his ammo supplies and took note of where the enemy robots were.

The duty and honor of disposing of that miserable excuse for a Mobian was his, and his alone, and no walking trash compactor was going to take that from him.

Popping up from behind his cover, he leveled his right wrist at the largest concentration of them. The robots had just enough time to call out a warning before the buster rocket slammed into them. The ensuing fireball turned them all to slag, leaving him with four to deal with. Those four immediately made his life much easier by dropping their prisoner to the ground to return fire, as this meant he would not have to worry about prematurely disposing of the sergeant.

Blue lasers skipped off of the stone around him as he ducked back under cover and pondered his next move. From what he had seen of these battle droids, they didn't know much in the way of evasive maneuvers, and seemed to be content to simply stand where they were and fire upon the enemy. That was not a smart move, and any competent soldier could have told you that it was a good way to get yourself killed.

Deciding to test his little theory, Derrick stuck his charric rifle up over his cover, and he snapped off two shots at where he remembered the closest droid being. He was rewarded with a clang and a crash a few moments later. From there, it was a simple matter to shift his aim about slightly, and gun down the remainder of the robots.

Once the last of them fell, he slowly stood back up. The battle droids were all dismantled, and Sergeant Tinian was attempting to get up. Groaning, the leopard leaned against a wall, using a nearby staircase banister to try and help him stand. Slowly, he turned and it was all Derrick could do to suppress a laugh as the grateful smile on the man's face became replaced by a look that was the very image of disbelief and fear.

In shock, he let go of his support, and he fell to the ground with a grunt. From there, he did his best to scramble backwards, away from this ghost that had returned to haunt him. Slowly, Derrick walked forward, holding his rifle in his hands, a wicked grin on his face as he strode towards this man. He would have never dreamed that the Goddess would be so kind to him, but here was the murderer who had dominated his thoughts for the past two years. The Mandalorian would have never before believed it was possible to hate someone so much, for that emotion to have such a hold over him. However, now the object of his obsession had been delivered into his hand, and he felt his rage grow to a point where he had to struggle to control it, pausing for a moment and suppressing it with a growl. One he'd done that, he looked back at Tinian, who was still trying to crawl away from him.

Resuming his approach, he quickly reached his prey. One he was close enough, he reached down, and grabbed the spotted feline around his neck, bringing him up to eye level.

"Good day to you, sergeant, have you been enjoying yourself?" he asked, revealing in the fear on the other man's face, and incoherent babbling that followed. "I hope you have, Tinian, because this is the last day that you will ever see," he said, his voice calm, belying the rage that threatened to bubble up and consume him. "I warned you that I would get free, that I would come for you. I apologize about not being able to hunt you down like I promised to, but considering the circumstances of the moment, I think it'll be okay if I just settle on killing you."

With that, he dropped the leopard. The soldier landed with a groan, and looked back up, his eyes, now wide in fear, stared into the black abyss of the Watchman's visor.

"Please…" he said, his voice scarcely a whisper, "please…"

Derrick did laugh then. It was a bitter laughter, tinged with pain and sorrow, with hate towards both himself and the man in front of him. For a full five seconds, he carried on like that, before he finally managed to get control of himself.

"Let me get this straight," he said, a caustically humorous tone to his voice. "You killed my Mandalore in cold blood, you killed him without honor or dignity, and then you turned your blaster on his son. You gunned down a child, murdered a seven year old boy who couldn't have been a threat to you no matter how hard he tried," he paused, and another derisive snort left him. "And now you plead for mercy from me? Now that the tables are turned and you are the one who is defenseless? You murdered two people who I considered family, and now, you have the _audacity_," he paused, bringing up his fist and clenching it, "to beg for your life?"

"Please…" Tinian said once more.

"You are pathetic," Derrick snarled, contempt filling every syllable. "You are a coward who hid behind the title of your station, and twisted its purpose to justify your crime! Now, though, now that your decision has caught up with you, you beg and whimper like a child who is scared of the darkness! No Tinian," the Mandalorian said with a shake of his head, "there will be no mercy for you today. Judgment is at hand. I hope you've made your peace with the Goddess."

With that he knelt down, and with a flick of his wrist, ejected his dagger. Carefully, he sliced open the soldier's chest armor, before tearing it off of him. Then he stood back up, and leveled his rifle with his target. Another whimper left the leopard, and Derrick noticed a growing stain on the front of his pants.

"Disgusting," he said, loathing in his tone of voice.

Then he fired.

A crimson bolt came out of the barrel, and impacted upon the cat. The round all but blew the targeted portion of his chest off, and he gasped, finding that he could not breathe. Derrick knew that wound was fatal, but he wasn't done yet. He aimed his charric up and to the left, before firing a second time. Then Derrick knelt down, putting his face right over Tinian's. He wanted his helmet, with its dreaded visor, and the bloody mythosaur skull that was painted on it, to be the last thing that this pathetic and wretched man saw before Death claimed him.

"Goodbye, sergeant," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, having to struggle to keep the joy he was feeling from seeping into his voice. "I hope you enjoy the pain, the same pain you caused Jaster. I would also suggest that you get used to it, as I have little doubt where a man such as yourself is going in the afterlife."

Tinian made like he was going to say something, but whether it was a defiant curse or a final, useless plead for mercy, the Death Watchman would never know. For it was then that the light faded from his eyes, and a gasp of air left his shattered lungs.

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"In my life as a warrior," Derrick said, his eyes once again having that far away look to them, "I've killed hundreds of enemy soldiers. Not Swat Bots, but actual, living, breathing soldiers. But though I've always gotten 'into' the battle, I've always remained detached from it at the same time. Never let it get personal, you know what I mean?"

Sally and Antoine both nodded. Becoming too passionate about anything in combat was bad, as it made you more likely to become blinded and make mistakes that would get you killed.

"That was the first time I ever felt absolute joy at ending another person's existence, watching Tinian die was one of the most satisfying things that I can remember in my whole life," he said. "Looking back, there are times when I wonder how close I might have come to actually being the man I killed."

"I would not be worrying about that too much," Antoine replied with a shake of his head. "There is being no shame in feeling joy about bringing a murderer to justice."

Silence ensued for a moment, as the old warrior appeared to think about what the coyote had just told him. Finally, he simply sighed, and scratched the back of his head.

"I'm not sure how long it was after that, it all seems blurred together, but I found another group," he said, his tone one of someone who scarcely believed what he was saying. "Prower was there, against all odds, trying to lead a group out…"

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The hair on the back of his neck was standing up as he entered the alley. He moved slowly, one boot in front of the other, his charric darting around everywhere. It was approaching evening now, and the dark clouds of smoke that seemed to be covering the city were not helping Derrick in the slightest. This was the kind of environment where a warrior's eyes could start to play tricks on him, so he would have to be ever vigilant, or he might find himself dead or worse.

This was one of the places where he'd hoped he'd be able to find another group, but right now his instincts screamed 'ambush.' Unfortunately, there was no way around this place. It was a residential sector, these alleyways were everywhere, and each one of them probably held some sort of force waiting for a careless Mobian to blunder into them.

He moved forward, his body tense, ready to duck, jump, or roll forward at the slightest hint of a problem. He was now ten feet inside, with about another forty to go. Nothing yet, but anything lying in wait was probably going to hold back until he was closer to the middle, thereby making it more difficult for him to flee.

One advantage of his helmet was that despite what one would think, his visor still allowed him to have a rather large field of vision, and he could glance about without an enemy knowing. Right now, he was making full use of that ability, using his peripheral vision to keep an eye out for movement from a window or something like that.

As luck would have it, it was not sight that would alert him to another's presence, but sound. He heard a slight scrapping noise, one that sounded like it was coming from the far end of the alley. He couldn't see anything, but it was off to his right. There was a stairway there, and he suspected that the noise had originated from behind that. Still, something seemed strange. The battle droids that he had encountered thus far had shown little, if any, stealth in their tactics, and they were very noisy. Furthermore, the Mandalorian wondered, could one of those hulking machines even conceal itself behind a staircase like that?

Perhaps he had underestimated what these tin cans were capable of. If that was the case, he'd better re-evaluate the situation ASAP; otherwise there was a good chance he wasn't going to walk away from this.

He decided that he'd check it out, see what it was. If it turned out to be a droid, he blast his way out of it. If it wasn't the enemy, well, he'd play it by ear depending on what it turned out to be.

As he drew nearer to the side of the stair case, an idea came to his mind. Whatever was on the other side was probably expecting him to pop around the corner, as it was what most troopers would have probably done. Thus, it was time for something a little more unorthodox. Hunching down to where he practically kneed himself in the chest every time that he moved, he attempted to shuffle up the stairs themselves, moving sideways compared to where he was facing. It wasn't easy, especially considering that he was wearing a jetpack. Still, he felt that he had been able to remain quiet enough that the droids shouldn't have detected him.

In a single movement, he rose up, and lunged over the side, pointing his charric rifle down over the stairway.

He found himself staring down at a ferret. The soldier, who was young and had the markings of a private on him, snapped his gaze up, and got an eyeful of a Death Watchman pointing a rifle at him, its barrel not two inches away from his skull.

"Holy!" The youth cried out, taking an instinctive step backwards, before stumbling and falling down.

He would continue to fall for a few more seconds, and Derrick couldn't help but wince as he now realized that the Royal Army soldier had been upon some stairs that seemed to lead down into a basement of some sort. Armored or not, that had to hurt.

He frowned behind his helmet, uncertain if he should flee or stay. True, he had been looking for a squad to link up with, but this wasn't exactly the best way to make a good first impression, and now that he was at that critical moment, he wondered if the current crisis was important enough for the Mobian soldiers to accept him as an ally of necessity. One thing he had learned about these people was that they had this annoying habit of holding grudges. He wasn't sure why they did it, as those petty things could alienate future allies, but there was a good chance they might try to use him for target practice.

Slowly, he could see other shapes moving in the basement below, and faint mutterings among those shapes. Whoever was in charge here was smart, the artic fox decided. They kept the lights off in that area, which would make it harder for an enemy to be alert to their presence, and in the event that they were detected, make it more difficult for the enemy to spot them.

The Death Watchman kept his rifle level, but he did relax his finger off of the trigger. It was a subtle sign among the Mandalorians that he wasn't looking for a fight, and he hoped that the troopers here would realize that. Still, he would have been a liar to say that he wasn't nervous when another pair of soldiers popped up, their rifles leveled at him.

"What is it?" came a voice from below after a few seconds passed with no shots being fired.

"Sir, you ain't going to believe this," one of them said, briefly taking his eyes off of Derrick to look back down the stairs, "but I think it's someone we know."

This caused the black armored warrior to cock his head quizzically to one side, wondering what in the world this trooper could have met. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of combat boots thudding upon stairs. The steps grew closer, and the Mandalorian braced himself for any possibility. However, he would have never expected the sight that met his eyes a moment later.

For the third time in about as many years, he found himself staring at Amadeus Prower. The now sergeant major looked him up and down, a similar look of disbelief upon his own face. Finally, the Royal Army soldier broke the silence.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked, tilting his head to one side, while lowering his rifle to his side. "You're the one…"

"Yes," Derrick responded with a nod, "and it would seem that fate has delivered me to my savior."

Mandalorians saved each others lives all the time, it was expected of them, a result of the camaraderie that had been bred into them after so many generations. However, for a non Mandalorian, someone outside of their clans, to perform such an act was a rare thing, and it demanded special attention. This was not to say that Derrick considered himself to be forever in the service of the man in front of him, but his code required that he go out of his way to assist him, and it most certainly demanded that he return the favor if ever the opportunity should present itself.

"Your savior," Amadeus inquired with a cocked eyebrow, "I think it should be the other way around, I might have bled out if it weren't for you."

"But you didn't know that was it me who patched up your wounds at Dagon's Peak, and you didn't have to get involved with what Sergeant Tinian was doing," the black armored warrior shot back, propping his rifle up against his shoulder.

Prower frowned, but he decided to change the subject. "Look, regardless of who owes who what, I think we'd be better off working together for the moment."

"Agreed," the Death Watchman concurred. "Do you and your men have a plan? Every second is one more advantage the enemy holds."

"Come with me, I'll fill you in," the fox replied, heading down the stairs, his men falling in behind him, though one remained to shut the hatch after they'd descended into the large basement. "Never managed to catch your name by the way," he stated.

"Derrick, Derrick Ordo," was the Mandalorian's response.

Prower just nodded.

Derrick's visor quickly adjusted, amping up the level of light that he was able to see. What met his eyes was something that surprised him. No less than thirty armed soldiers were down here. Some of them were surprised and suspicious about his abrupt appearance, while others just seemed to nod. The artic fox assumed the latter case must have been veterans of Malachor, and had been with Prower's squad at the time. Either that, or they were prudent enough to realize that there were strength in numbers at the moment, never mind what those numbers were.

There were even more unarmed people, men, women, and children alike. They were all frightened by the looks of it, though given the circumstances, he could hardly blame them. Truth be told, though, he'd always wondered why these Mobians had noncombatants among their population. While it was true that they were not a very warlike people, it just seemed to him that it would be a prudent measure to train the general populace in at least the basics of combat. After all, simply because one did not have a blaster didn't make one immune to a plasma bolt.

One in particular seemed to follow the path that the soldier in front of him took as they went deeper into the basement. She was the same species as Prower, and appeared to be about his age. A glance down at her hand revealed a golden band on her ring finger. A sudden pang hit Derrick in the heart as he made the connection, and for a second, Jolee and Brianna appeared in his mind's eye. He'd never found out what had befallen his daughter, but after all this time, he knew that she had either been taken by the Royal Army to be placed with a Mobian family, or that was probably dead, her small skeleton lying out on the wasteland that had been the last stand of his people.

He had to shake his head slightly to clear the image from his brain as he approached a table that had been set up. Thinking about his dead family would not bring them back, nor would it aid him or his newfound allies in this critical moment.

Amadeus reached the table, which was illuminated by a couple of small lamps, and Derrick realized that there was a map on it, one of the entire city. Several large areas were highlighted, though he hadn't a clue as to what they were at the moment.

"How much do you know about what's going on right now?" the sergeant major asked him, looking up right into his face.

"Not a whole lot," Derrick remarked while removing his helmet, a gesture he thought might make his presence less uncomfortable, particularly with the civilians who were nearby. "But I've got a hunch that this is some kind of revolution."

"Pretty much," Prower responded, shaking his head. "Julian Kintobor, the Minister of War, has apparently staged a coup d'etat. So far, he's been pretty successful. He's managed to reprogram most of the droids in the city, and now these 'Swat Bots' are rounding us up or gunning us down." He sighed abruptly, before continuing. "So far there's been no word from either General D'Coolette or the rest of high command or from the king, and we've been forced to assume that they're either dead, or captured."

"Some of the droids I ran into mentioned something about 'roboticization,' any idea what they might have been talking about?" the Death Watchman asked.

"Nope," Prower responded with a shake of his head, "but none of us here have any desire to find out what that might be."

He then gestured down to the map once again, pointing to several of the red areas, some of which encompassed entire sectors of the city.

"These are regions that we know have fallen to enemy droids," he explained, "as you can see, they've gotten almost sixty five percent of the city under their control already, from last report, and their well on their way to total victory."

"Seems to me the best thing to do is to fall back to somewhere outside of the city, regroup, and then try a counter assault to try and take Mobotropolis back," Derrick mused, setting his helmet down and rubbing his chin.

"Yeah, that's our thought as well," the Royal Army soldier responded. "It's almost reached the point of every squad for themselves, and once that happens, it's virtually game over. We've got a plan to get both us and the civilians out of harm's way, though," he said, before pointing to a blue circle in the residential sector. "This is where we are right now, and this," he pointed to a green circle, which appeared to be about eight kilometers away, if the scale was correct, "is an independent shipping company's transport lot. Julian's forces have control of nearly every single military craft, but these are civilian ones. We don't think he's gotten around to them yet, plus, they don't have the tracking devices that the military ones have, so he won't know where we are."

Derrick remained silent, mulling this information over in his head. The plan called for them to sneak what amounted to nearly eighty people, more than half of them unarmed civilians, eight kilometers across a war zone, and then all of it on the hope that these civilian craft had yet to be reduced to scrap by a bombing raid. In short, every single instinct in him screamed that such a move was insane, and doomed to failure. However, at the same time, the sheer craziness of this plan might be the reason that it worked. Droids, he noticed, tended to be completely logic driven. Thus, they might assume that no one in their right mind would attempt something such as this. As a result, it was quite possible that they might not even have guards stationed around there in a number sufficient to deal with an attacking force.

Besides, it beat just waiting for the enemy to come to him.

"Count me in," Derrick said, nodding his head, and grabbing his helmet.

"Good to hear," Prower responded with a smile, before turning on his mike. "Darrel, Cortez, get down here, we're moving out."

About thirty seconds later, a couple of soldiers came down into the basement, sporting sniper rifles and urban camouflage, and Derrick was glad that he had put his helmet back on. He'd never seen a hint that those two snipers were in position, and he cursed himself for his carelessness. It appeared as though his two year stint in prison might have dulled his warrior senses to a degree, and he'd have to be mindful of that.

On the flip side, the fact that they hadn't blasted him after he'd startled the door sentry seemed to indicate that his standing with these troopers might have been better than he thought. With that somewhat comforting silver lining, he double checked his equipment, and fell in line behind the sergeant major.

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Against all odds, they had managed to reach their target relatively unimpeded. They believed that this was due mostly to the fact that several divisions of Swat Bots had been redirected from their path over towards an upscale residential area. Their comm. systems had picked up the chatter, and though that hadn't fully understood exactly what was going on, they knew that the droids were in pursuit of what had been termed a 'high value target.' They had no idea as to whom or what the unfortunate person or persons were, but they silently wished them the best of luck. Truthfully, a small, clever group might have the best chance of all of escaping this nightmare, as these battle droids didn't appear to be very bright.

Derrick just wanted to get out of this city however he could. It had been getting darker ever since this coup had begun, almost unnaturally so. He had been trying to shrug it off as a coincidence, but he had found himself unable to do so. His warrior training wanted him to scoff at such a notion, but he couldn't shake the fact that this city had a different feel to it now. Something felt wrong, and not in the feeling that you are walking into a trap kind of wrong. There was something dark in this place now… something evil.

Amadeus, who was up in the lead of the column, suddenly brought his fist up, and everyone behind him suddenly stopped. Slowly, his left fist uncurled, and his stuck two fingers up in the air, before spinning them around counterclockwise. As quietly as they could, the squad formed up, the various leaders shifting up behind the sergeant major. Derrick was among them, and he wondered what was going on.

It became clear when he saw that Prower was pulling a holo projector out of his belt. With the other hand, he slung his DC-15 infantry rifle over his right shoulder, and drew out an observation probe. It was a black sphere, about the size of a grapefruit, with a multitude of scanning 'eyes' sticking out of various points of its surface. The Royal Army soldier switched the device on, and a moment later, threw it up into the air. It whined softly as its micro repulsors kept it airborne. Slowly, it began an automated routine scan of the region.

It was all that Derrick could do not to curse, as the area was swarming with battle droids. Prower seemed to share his assessment of the situation, as a frown appeared on his muzzle, and he scratched it, trying to figure out the best course of action.

If it were just them, they could have made a running gun battle out of it, with them sprinting and laying down fire on their surprised adversaries. Odds were, they would have probably been able to take what vehicles they needed, hotwire them, and bug out before their opponents could even figure out what was going on.

Unfortunately, the presences of noncombatants made things a little more complicated than that. They could not be relied on to fight, and Derrick personally doubted that most of them had ever even held a blaster before, let alone shot one. They were weak links that would have to be protected. After all, the Mandalorian mused, leaving those who could not defend themselves to their own fate was a serious breach of his people's code, and with the very real possibility that he might be among the last of them, he was certainly not going to let these people remember him as anything less than a perfect example of how his brothers and sisters had really been.

Finally, though, Prower seemed to get an idea, as he slowly nodded his head, before pointing to a group of droids that was about one hundred feet away from their current position.

"Marcus, Kyle," he said, his voice calm and cool, "I want you two to set up the Lex and lay down some fire on that formation, we don't want them taking a bead on us or the transports." The two soldiers nodded, and the fox then turned to his snipers. "I need you two to keep scanning the buildings, any sign of droid sharpshooters or Hover Bots, drop them before they can cause trouble. The rest of us are going to advance up under the cover of these shipping crates," he gestured to the obstacles. "Now we're going to have to move fast, and once we've taken out the opposition, we need to get these civies loaded up and get out of here before more show up." He turned to another one of his troopers. "Boris, I want your squad to hang back and keep them protected, when I tell you to move, you get them loaded, and do not stop to help the rest of us out. Do I make my self clear?"

Everyone nodded, and then moved to carry out their role. It took only moments to have the LEX-275 set up, and then they were ready. On Amadeus' signal, the machine gun crew opened fire. Taken by surprise, it was easy for them to drop the enemy platoon before they even realized what was happening.

"Move, move!" the sergeant major growled, walking forward in a crouch, his weapon leveled and on the look out for targets.

As Derrick followed up, staying close, he felt his adrenaline surge. War was his element, a battlefield his home, and it was time for him to prove his worth to these men and women. As an enemy squadron came out of the building, he wasted no time in lining up the foremost Swat Bot in his crosshairs. He fired once, right at where the heart would be on an organic, and allowed for his charric's recoil to kick it up. It went a little high, and he had to bring it back down in order to get his next shot lined up. Nonetheless, the crimson plasma bolt shattered the droid's photoceptor, and it collapsed.

Prower was right behind him, blue tinged energy flying from his DC-15, cutting a pair of droids off at the waist. The rest of the formation began to take aim at the two warriors, however, they had not yet become aware of the plasma cannon that had been set up at the far end of the lot. They were made aware of it a couple of seconds later as the Lex spewed its destructive power among them, shredding them like paper.

"Carson, move it up!" Prower shouted into his mike, "there's another squad on the eastern edge of the lot, you and Besinti take em out! Use your thermals!"

The two troopers double timed it to where they were supposed to go, priming a pair of detonators en route. Ten seconds later, flashes lit up the darkening sky, and roars swiftly followed them as the grenades went off.

"Droids scrapped, sir," the two reported back, "we're going to hold here to prevent any more of these bucket heads from out into the lot. Let us know when we need to pack it up."

"Will do, and don't forget to call in for support if you need it," Amadeus growled, popping up from behind a crate to waste another enemy unit.

A pair of blue beams came up from behind them, striking up into the windows of the building. Crashes, barely audible over the din of the firefight, echoed out, testifying to a pair of droids that had been expertly dropped by their two snipers. It was then that their leader stuck his hand up into the air, spinning it around a few times. That was the signal for Boris to move his squad up, the civilians in tow behind them. This would be one of the diciest parts of the escape, Derrick knew, and he turned, keeping his eye upon the group as they came forward, while the soldiers began to commandeer a trio of heavy transports.

His past experiences with civilians in these sorts of situations had taught him that civilians had a knack for getting themselves caught in the crossfire between two groups, and they also had this annoying tendency to simply freeze up when bolts started flying their way, instead dropping flat to the ground as they should have. Just another snag that he would have to deal with.

Another squadron of Swat Bots attempted to storm out onto the lot, determined to keep their foes from escaping. However, a well placed buster rocket took care of them before they were able to cause too much trouble.

Amidst all the chaos, the soldiers began to load the civilians up. This made things a little bit easier, as they had a more concentrated target to protect. Hunkering down behind one of the transports, Derrick paused just long enough to slap a fresh power cell into his blaster before popping around the side, and firing two shots at the closest battle droid. It fell to the ground with an almighty clang, sparks and shorted wires fizzing from it like a holiday firecracker.

He could not recall later how long the gun fight had lasted. It felt as if it had been hours and seconds at the same time. Nonetheless, things went fairly smoothly. A few injuries were sustained, but no one was critically wounded.

"Load up and move out!" Prower shouted, running for a nearby swoop bike, before hopping on it and powering the hover cycle up.

Derrick and several other soldiers were swift to follow his lead. This had been just the first step, and they were by no means in the clear yet. They now had the even more difficult task of trying to get everyone out of this metropolis in one piece. The city of Mobotropolis was the living definition of massive, stretching for more than forty kilometers in any given direction. At the current moment, they were a little more than half way out of the city, meaning that twenty kilometers of the Goddess only knew what awaited them.

Powering up his swoop bike, Derrick fell in with the Royal Army soldiers as they peeled out of the lot.

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"Did you run into anything else?" Sally asked.

"Amazingly, not a whole lot. Just a couple of Hover Bots here and there, which wet were able to swat down without too much trouble," Derrick replied with a shake of his head. "For the life of me, I never was able to figure out why. My best guess, though, was that Robotnik's forces were simply spread too thin, and he decided that it wasn't worth it to keep up pursuit of one group of fleeing Mobians when there were so many left to capture."

"I see," the ground squirrel remarked, suddenly looking down at the ground as she wondered how many others hadn't been so fortunate, hadn't been able to escape.

"Eventually, we made it to the forest," the old warrior continued, "and from there, we tried to see if we could find anyone else. After a little while with no contact with anyone, though, Prower decided it would be best for the group to build up some shelter and lie low. I didn't stay with them, however."

"Why not?" asked Antoine, giving the Mandalorian a funny look.

"Because I wanted to go my own way," the artic fox said. "I needed to… to go out and see if I could find any others."

The royal guard looked confused, but the princess nodded in an understanding manner.

"You were looking for more of your own kind," she said, sympathy in her tone.

"Yes," Derrick replied with a nod of his head. "I wasn't expecting to find any other warriors, but I had hoped that some of the children that had been taken might have been able to escape the coup."

"Why not any warriors?" Sally asked, very much confused by this pessimistic outlook.

"Because, princess," he responded, "we Mandalorians fear capture more than we fear Death. To go out fighting is what we hope for in our lives, but to be trapped and imprisoned by the enemy, locked up in a cage like an animal, its more than most of us can bear. It is the ultimate dishonor to us, and many at Malachor, realizing they were about to be captured, either performed suicidal rushes upon your forces, or they turned their weapons upon themselves." He paused, looking both her and Antoine dead in the eye. "At Malachor, of the four hundred thousand warriors we had there, I was one of less than two hundred that were taken prisoner."

That caused them to openly gawk at him. They had never before heard of such a statistic, for if Derrick was telling the truth, then that meant that only one out of about every two thousand Mandalorians had lived to see the end of that day.

"Of the number that were captured, half of us didn't make it back to the various prisons they were sending us to, either because their wounds were too grave, or because they managed to get their hands of a sharp piece of metal," he continued.

"So why were you not attempting to take…" he paused, as he had been about to say 'the coward's way out.' Mentally, he slapped himself, as he had forgotten what was a cultural taboo to his people was an accepted practice among Derrick's.

"At Malachor, they managed to capture me partially because they overpowered me, and partially because I was so concerned about Canderous and Jaster." Was the response he got. "After that, the vow that I made to avenge their deaths kept me from ending my life. I had made an oath to kill their murderer, and if enduring the shame of capture and imprisonment was necessary to achieve that, then I would."

Antoine remained silent, though he seemed to understand.

"I had no luck in my searches," Derrick said, shaking his head. "I could find neither children nor any of my fellow _ner vode. _From time to time, however, I would go back to where Prower and his group were hiding out, mostly to recharge my rifle's power packs and make myself some new busters and stingers." A faint smile appeared on his face. "Finally, about two and a half years after the coup, I came back after being away for almost twelve months, and I was met with a bit of a surprise: Prower had a new addition to his family."

"Miles." Sally realized, and she felt a faint tugging at her heart as she thought of the kit that had become her adopted child.

"Yeah," the old warrior said. "He was the center of his parents' world. Amadeus and Rosemary, I'd never seen them happier. The lad was something special, too, and I don't mean the fact that he had a pair of tails." Derrick paused, and his smile grew a little wider. "The boy had this way of just lighting up a room when they brought him in, of making you forget all the bad things that were going on around you, you know what I mean?"

In response, both Sally and Antoine nodded, knowing quite well the effect that the boy could have on them at times. However, Derrick's face grew dark then, and a soft sigh left him.

"I saw Miles twice, once when he was two months old, another when he was eight," he said, his tone sober, weary once again. "I went away after that again, determined to try one more search, one more attempt to find any traces of my own people… my own child." He stopped his tale again, and Sally wondered if it was a trick of the low light, or if she saw the makings of a tear in the scarred soldier's eye. "It was fruitless, but I was so determined that I stayed out longer than usual. When I finally came back, a little more than a year later… the village was gone." He slowly clenched his fists in anger, his eyes growing hard.

"The place had been found, I guess, 'cause it had been burned to the ground. There were a few bodies, but it looked like just about everyone had been hauled off back to Robotropolis," Derrick said, his voice holding a bitterness that was nearly tangible. "Some of the huts were still smoldering, so I knew it had to have happened within the past couple of days, and I hightailed it in the direction that the party had gone." He lowered his head, his ears suddenly drooping. "I tried, I searched, but I never found them. Amadeus is the sole reason that I'm still drawing breath… and I wasn't there when he needed me… If hadn't been so obsessed with finding any trace of other Mandalorians, he might have been here right now. Instead, he and Rosemary are probably roboticized, trapped in their own private hell…"

"Your being there would not have been making much of a difference, I am suspecting," Antoine told him, a look of sympathy coming from his eyes.

"Antoine's right," Sally said, getting up and laying a comforting hand upon his shoulder, "You've seen how Robotnik operates, subtlety isn't normally one of his priorities. If you'd been there, you'd either be dead, or slaving away in one of his facilities right now."

Derrick said nothing, and the princess knew that there was nothing she could do that would be of any real help to the old artic fox. This was a situation that he would have to get over on his own. She hoped he did, however, as it seemed as if he'd been through enough for one lifetime.

The silver lining to this though, was that there was now a slim hope that Tails' true parents might actually still be alive. Perhaps, one day when they'd taken Julian down and finally gotten the deroboticizer to work, they would find them, and free them from their enslavement.

And even if they were dead, if they had been shot while creating some form of disturbance (which was how she figured that Tails' had been hidden in the first place) or if some accident had destroyed them after they'd been turned into worker bots, and least now the boy could know what his parents had been like, that they had been good people, loving parents, and brave souls.

Of course, relaying this new information required that they get out of this alive, and she was aware that out there in the shadows, there lurked a killer that was after them all. She needed to get some sleep, no matter that she didn't feel tired right now. Being fresh and well rested would probably be the only way they would be alert enough to be ready for when Norrack chose to strike again.

And she had no doubt in her mind that when he did, it would be with the same ruthless brutality that he always struck with. Before she forced her eyes shut, and drifted off into a fitful sleep, she took a long look around at everyone, wondering who would live to see the day after tomorrow, and who might be cut down by the vicious cyborg war machine that was on their tail.

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Okay, hope that wasn't clichéd or anything like that, and that you found it to be enjoyable.

As always, any and all forms of feedback are welcomed, from advice and constructive criticisms, to flames and mentions of what kind of an idiot I am. I am also still looking for advice on booby traps, so if you've got one, I'd love to hear about it.

Until next time, everyone, have a great day.


	17. Predator and Prey

Hello again, everybody, and I hope your having a good day.

Things are a little different over here at Florida State. Dorm room could be a bit bigger, but at least my room mate seems pretty nice. That, and the fact that I will have to walk two and a half miles to get to my classes will be good for my health.

That aside, I will apologize in advance if this chapter is crummy. I cannot put my finger on it, but be it from some subcouncious stress associated with moving to a new environment, the expectation of attending college at a university larger than my entire hometown, or the fact that I am working on another brief story for a friend, I have what one might term 'a disturbance in the Force' and I feel as if I have not been able to produce my usual quality of work. Feel free to point out anything you see wrong with this chapter, and I will attempt to correct it.

Once again, I want to thank everyone who reviewed and everyone who has read this story so far, and I only pray that I can continue to improve (hopefully that will start to happen as soon as I am put through the Fiction Workshop that I have lined up, among other writing based courses).

Lawyers- Listen you blasted bloodsuckers, I own nothing, you hear me, nothing!

…man… I must be more stressed than I thought…

(Editor's note, I apologize about the wacky formatting, is still not letting me use scene seperator bars for some reason (is anyone else having a problem with this?))

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Predator and Prey

Sally stared up at them, having to resist the urge to relieve herself of the combat rations that she'd eaten about twenty minutes earlier.

She had awoken with the dawn that day. Mercifully, her sleep had been dreamless, with no nightmares of past or present to haunt her. However, whatever relief she might have felt over that had quickly vanished when she and everyone else had realized something: the tarps in which the bodies of the soldiers Norrack had killed were missing. There was only one logical conclusion to this that they could think of, and that was that the ARC trooper had somehow penetrated their picket lines last night and had made off with them. The thought of the cyborg penetrated their watch once was bad enough, but the princess knew that in order to do what he had done, he would have had to have infiltrated them not once, but twice during the night. It was an unsettling notion to say the least.

And that was before they had rediscovered the bodies.

She forced herself to look away from the horrid spectacle, but she knew that the image would be with her forever.

Norrack had taken both corpses and further desecrated them. Now they hung down from a tree branch by their ankles. Both had been skinned and gutted, and now swung in the gentle breeze like butchered cattle in a slaughter house.

"I don't understand it," Bunnie said, unable to keep a slight waver out of her voice, "why is he doing this?"

There was a moment of silence, before Uncle Chuck gave her the answer.

"He's using psychological warfare on us," the mechanized scientist said, his tone one of pure dread.

"Of course," Sally murmured as everything seemed to fall into place.

"It was one of the primary ways in which an ARC would overcome a superior military force," Sir Charles said, his glowing red eyes staring around into the woods. "We knew they were powerful, but that they were not invincible. In order for them to overcome more populated and heavily defended enemy targets, they were going to be instructed in ways of mentally besting their foes before engaging large numbers of them." He paused, and looked about, staring at the rest of the group, making certain that they all understood what he was getting at. "They would have had to become more than a soldier in the eyes of their foes, they would have to become living nightmares, avatars of their deepest fears."

"I am still not understanding," Antoine said, scratching the back of his head, a frown upon his muzzle.

"He's trying to psych us out," Sally said, as she too scanned the Great Forest, somehow knowing that even now, the cyborg killing machine was out there, watching them, waiting for the right time to strike. "He'll come in, pick us off, one or two at a time, and then do something like that," she gestured up at the corpses. "He's trying to break us, drive us into a blind panic. That way, he'll be able to get his job done without having to worry as much about his own safety."

"Seems a little far fetched to me," Geoffrey stated, giving her a funny look.

"Believe me, it would be like him to do something like that," Gunter growled, drawing all eyes to the cougar. "This is exactly what he did to take down my squad," he said his words slowly, but the others could feel the rage in them. "He'd snag himself a group or two, just a few people at first. Then, one we were out of the factory, he got a little bolder, but it was still the same routine," he paused, his eyes growing hard as the memories of that day flashed again. "His kills were brutal, needlessly so, and it drove my soldiers mad with fear of him. Finally, when they broke, he hit us like a predator."

The guerilla soldier stopped again, a small sigh leaving him.

"He cut through us like a blade after that, and now he's at it again. You mark my words," he snarled, bearing his large fangs, "he'll attack us again before too long, and it wouldn't surprise me if he did that," he pointed up at the bodies, "all over again."

"So then what would you recommend that we do?" Elias inquired, cocking his head slightly, eager for a solution from someone who had battled Norrack before.

"I'm not sure if there's anything we can do," Gunter replied with a shrug. "I will say this, though. If you see anything you think looks suspicious or out of place, anything at all, slot it, just to be safe."

The soldiers in the group nodded, realizing the wisdom of that thought.

Sally knew that they still had about twenty kilometers to go before they reached Blue Brook. However, they might as well have tired running to the moon, for all the good it was. She knew, deep down, that kind of distance was more than enough for the ARC trooper to kill them all. Besides, even if they did reach the other Freedom Fighter village, what would they do? It would be like what had happened at Knothole all over again. Norrack would follow them, and report in the location of yet another of their hiding spots. Then they'd find themselves with one more Swat Bot army to deal with.

With that in mind, the ground squirrel came to a decision.

"Okay, we're going to move out, but keep your eyes peeled for a defensible location," she told the troops, getting her a weird stare from her brother and Geoffrey, while Uncle Chuck and Derrick nodded grimly, both of them apparently realizing what she was thinking.

"What do you mean, sis?" Elias asked, a frown on his face.

"We won't make it if we try to run for it," she explained, her commander voice kicking in. "We need to make a stand, and force a confrontation between ourselves and Norrack. We've got quite a bit of firepower, but that probably won't be enough on its own. We've got to try and find a cul-de-sac or something that we can hole up in and force him to fight on our terms."

The others nodded as they accepted this reasoning, and at the command of their leader, began to move, their formation slightly spread out to allow for better observations of their surroundings, and so that a single overcharge shot from Norrack's plasma caster would be unable to wipe them all out if and when he returned for another go at them.

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The cyborg knew they were coming. He had been observing them for some time at his usual discrete distance. They stopped for a few minutes after they found the 'gifts' he'd left for them. It was all in his training, a key rule that he had to play by if he hoped to come out on top. Outnumbered and outgunned, he needed three factors on his side for an ideal battle: surprise, fear, and intimidation. Those were the keys to breaking the enemy, making them nearly helpless targets that were all too easy to capture or destroy.

Surprise was easy enough for him, his stealthy tactics and the active camouflage generator that he had enabled him to literally walk among them unseen. Fear almost always walked hand in hand with surprise, but normally only for a brief moment. The shock of watching him fall upon them faded as they gathered their courage and began to fight back, hence his hit and run tactics. To achieve a permanent fear holding over them, intimidation was exploited to its fullest potential. The savage butchery that he'd engaged in, the corpses that he'd left, and the defensive properties of his shielding and armor aided him there, slowly chipping away at his adversaries' mental training, slowly grinding them down until all that was left was a pitiful mess of terror and panic.

However, his attacks were not blind, his path of destruction not random. He carefully calculated his strikes for maximum effectiveness, both in the long term goal of achieving victory, and the short term goal of getting his attacks in without getting turned into cannon fodder.

As of right now, he was lying in wait for them, remaining absolutely still, scarcely daring to breathe, less the subtle movement of that activity give away his position. What he was about to try and do would be a bold move, even by his standards, considering that the enemy was on very high alert. He had to hand it to their princess, she was doing an admirable job of keeping the troopers in line, considering all that he had done to try and unnerve them. At long last, he thought he was finally beginning to understand how these guerilla soldiers had been able to be a thorn in the side of his master for so long.

Still, it was time for him to change that, starting right now.

A crunching noise alerted him to the sound of his encroaching prey. There was a slight rustling noise just ahead of the rebel soldier, which lead him to believe that this was one of the guerilla troopers that was carrying a Lex. So much the better, as far as the cyborg was concerned, as next to the slug throwers, that was the most dangerous weapon that this group could bring against him, and unlike the slug throwers, this one took a long time to run out of ammo.

He had to force himself to wait as he heard the noise draw nearer, force himself to be patient. After all, if he acted too soon, he could very well get himself killed. Another crunch came, the sound of the Freedom Fighter's boot coming down on the lush vegetation of the forest. This time, though, the noise was less than a foot away from Norrack's helmet, and the ARC trooper knew that now was the time for him to act.

The soldier never even had time to cry out, as the forest suddenly seemed to come to life. The cloaked cyborg jumped up from where he'd been lying on the ground, his energy blade becoming active with its by now ominous hum. An instant later, Norrack lashed out, his kaiburr sword coming down on the middle of the soldier's skull, slicing off the front part of his head. However, to the dismay of the killing machine, the man had had a very tight grip upon the trigger of his weapon, and as he went down, his death spasms caused a round or two to go off. None of the large plasma bolts hit him, but the noise they made caused him to lose any stealth that he might have had.

A loud boom echoed through the forest, and he felt the impact of the flechette pellets coming from one of the slug throwers. This was followed swiftly by a second, and before the ARC trooper knew it, his shields were down to around fifty percent. The element of surprise was lost, and now that his foes were brining their superior firepower to bear upon him, retreat would be a prudent measure.

He realized that two of his primary targets, Antoine and the princess, were leveling their weapons at him. Knowing what would happen to him if they managed to take his shields down, the cyborg attempted to beat a hasty retreat deeper into the woods. Unfortunately for him, though, was that Bunnie was also nearby. The strength that the partially roboticized Mobian had at her disposal was immense, and as such she was carrying the other LEX-275. She wasted no time in getting up with her comrades and pulling the trigger.

The plasma cannon proceeded to shred the trees of the surrounding woods like they were toothpicks, and despite Norrack's best efforts, two of the rounds slammed into him, ripping away any remnants of his shields. A third round came in, hitting him in the back with enough force to almost cause the cyborg to topple head over heels, but he somehow remained upright, despite the fact that a second and third shot hit home a moment later.

At the same time, Sally and Antoine opened fire. At the distance in which their target was, it should have been easy for them to evade him, but they'd noticed something strange: the ARC trooper's light bending camouflage was disappearing, presenting them with a more visible, and thus easier to hit, target. They saw sparks fly as several flechette pellets ricocheted off of the cyborg's zersium armor plating, however, Sally thought that she saw Norrack lower his left hand towards his side at one point.

After that thought, he was out of range. However, she saw him leap up into one of the great trees, using a low hanging branch to get himself up off of the ground before leaping higher up into the canopy of the Great Forest. After that, he was gone.

Most of the troopers were clustered around the ARC trooper's latest kill. However, Sally felt her mind reaching a conclusion. She'd wondered how Norrack had kept moving about without them seeing the signs of him. At their camp, they'd seen no evidence of footprints, or crushed vegetation where he would have had to have dragged the bodies. They had not even found a blood trail. Now, though, now she knew.

"The trees," she remarked aloud, causing a few people to stare at her.

"What?" Uncle Chuck inquired, curious as to what she might have meant.

"The trees," the ground squirrel said again, this time in a louder tone of voice. "Norrack's using the trees to get around without us seeing him. That's how he infiltrated us! That's how he keeps getting ahead of us without us spotting him!"

There was a moment of sobering silence, before Bunnie decided to speak.

"Never thought I'd see the day the Great Forest was used against us," she muttered, her head down and her ears drooping.

It wasn't a pleasant thought. The Great Forest had sheltered them for years, kept them safe from Robotnik's prying eyes and his metallic grasp. It had fed them, given them the wood they needed for their homes. It had given them just about everything they'd required to survive. Now, though, Julian's latest killing machine had managed to turn even that against them.

"Keep moving!" Sally barked abruptly, not wishing to let that thought dwell in the mind of her fellows for too long.

They needed to find a defensible location, and they needed to find it fast.

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After he felt that he had gotten a safe enough distance away from his prey, Norrack stopped, and at long last let the gasp of pain go through his vocal cords. He placed his hand to his side, felt the strange combination of blood and hydrostatic gel leaking out of the hole the flechette round had torn in him. Groaning, he reached down for the belt that was strapped around his waist, drawing out a med kit that he had been given in case of just such an emergency.

He reached in and grabbed a pair of forceps, before carefully reaching around behind and poking around with them. Ever so cautiously, he reached inside of himself, taking his time so as not to further aggravate the wound, or possibly tear a bigger hole in himself. It didn't take him long to trace the path through his fur and flesh to find the offending shard of metal. A slight hiss of pain came from underneath his helmet as he carefully pulled the shrapnel back out.

He stared at the bloody fragment, and knew that he had been lucky. Apparently, it had only been a glancing blow, if any more fragments had gotten through, he could have been in serious trouble.

Putting the forceps down, he reached into the kit and grabbed a container of bacta. He then applied it to the wound, hoping that it would seal quickly. Now he was faced with the problem of repairing his armor out in the field. Fortunately, one of the first rules of combat was to know everything there was to know about your gear, so that in the event that it gets damaged, jammed, or messed up in some similar way, you could repair it.

Popping the seal on his helmet, he removed it, and then quickly removed the chestplate portion of his armor. It wasn't difficult to locate the damaged portion, as it was still leaking the glowing green gel everywhere. He was also painfully aware of the fact that he might have left a trail of this stuff that could lead an enemy to where he was if they were observant.

If that was the case, then he needed to speed up. Quickly, he reached into another region of his supply belt, drawing out what looked to be a metal bottle, a couple of patches of black material, and a second, slightly smaller bottle. Working at a feverish pace, the ARC trooper unscrewed the cap of the small bottle, revealing it to have a brush like mechanism on the inside. He then took that brush, now lathered in an epoxy fast drying paste, and placed the piece of material on the inside of the suit's damaged region, the part that would be pressed up against his combat bodysuit. From there it was a simple job to stick the armor weave patch on. Once sandwiched between the two pieces of armor weave, the epoxy did its job almost instantly.

He then took the second bottle, and removed its top, revealing a hose like device. Making a quick estimation in his mind, Norrack was then able to pump the necessary amount of hydrostatic gel back into the layer between the armor, and then patch up the other side. As fast as he could, he slipped his armor and helmet back on, sealing them up and then hurrying to get everything packed up. Every second he delayed was that much more time his prey would have to evade him, and he could not afford to fail in this endeavor.

Unfortunately, he was faced with a critical decision at that moment in time. Several hits had been landed on his back as he'd fled and one of them had managed to penetrate the armor and score a hit on his power generator. The shot had damaged the fuel cells that kept his suit, shields, and cloaking device running. In fact, it had damaged it to the extent that aside from basic suit functions, he could only support one or the other. In case the guerillas pursued, he'd opted to drop his stealth and focus on trying to get his defenses back up. However, now that he was out of the combat area, the choice was a harder one to make.

This was due to one slight problem with the Mark VIII: the shields required a boost to get them up and running initially. They could recharge on their own as many times as was necessary so long as the required power was diverted to them. However, if that power stopped, he would find himself without them until he could return to base and have the necessary charge put into the armor.

The cyborg made a note to point that out to his master, in hopes of it being rectified before his next assignment.

Now, the choice over which system to supply power to confronted him. Did he keep his shields up? Adopt the role of a heavily armored infantry unit for the continued duration of this critical mission? Or did he power down his shields so that he could disappear into thin air again?

For some minutes he pondered this, knowing it would affect what he would and would not be able to do for the rest of the operation. Finally, though, he made up his mind. He would keep his stealth abilities. While this would lave him more vulnerable to mass enemy fire, he simply knew that he would have to be more careful, and he would perhaps start having to revert to using his caster to score precision kills. He hadn't heard from Robotnik in several hours, and judging by the last transmission he had received, it had sounded as if he was rather irate about something, possibly a rebel incursion into Robotropolis itself.

Regardless, he believed that his master would allow for him to adjust his tactics in light of this minor setback.

With a slight humming noise, his shields went offline. Then, he shimmered once again, and faded into a blur.

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Sally grunted as she helped pull back on a rope to try and get the trap into place. The rope was only one of about six that they had with them, so that meant that traditional booby traps requiring such devices would be limited to one or two at the most. Thus, they would have to be especially creative with what they were doing. Speed was critical, as she didn't know how long it would be before Norrack returned. Bunnie and Uncle Chuck had volunteered to go running about in the woods after she'd spotted this distant cul-de-sac, a desperate bid to try and lead Norrack on the wild goose chase that would be required for them to have enough time to set up their traps.

They'd made several so far, as this was not the first time that such devices had been required. However, it was the first time they were ever attempting to use them on an enemy of the caliber an ARC trooper represented, and Sally only prayed that he wouldn't know what to look for, or that his eagerness to kill them all would somehow play into their hands. Complicating maters were that none of these traps would be able to kill the cyborg on their own. They were meant to slow him down or incapacitate him so that they could finish him off with their guns.

They did have one edge, though, in that these traps were rather primitive by modern standards, and thus, that they would be unlikely to show up on any scans or whatnot that the killing machine might attempt to make. She he knew would make those scans as well, because if it had taught her nothing else, Sally knew that this… hunt… had showed her that Norrack was a new kind of enemy. He wasn't like the Swat Bots, and his subtly, stealth, and just the fact that he seemed to be able to outthink them at almost every turn indicated he was far smarter than those drones, and probably even smarter than Mecha.

Now, though, things were going to be a little different. The ARC would not be chasing after them, hunting them like some kind of predator. Now, he would come and find that they were prepared for him. It was time to see just how well Norrack was able to deal with a foe that was waiting for him to come to them, rather than vice versa.

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The cyborg leapt out, landing on a large branch, watching the two targets run. Both of them were high value, capture targets, thus he had been unable to simply blow them away from where he was.

He'd come across them with relative ease about an hour or so ago, as they were even bothering to hide their movements. Indeed, he suspected that they were deliberately trying to grab his attention. That, combined with the fact that these just happened to be the two targets that would have hard the most physical endurance and highest running speed and the fact that their flight was not one of blind, fear induced panic, led him to a conclusion. Either one, they were decoys, attempting to lead him away from the rest of the group, something he found unlikely since they had doubled back in a circle over the past several minutes, and seemed to be fully aware that they were doing it. Second, they were bait, leading him into a trap of some sort. This seemed the more logical of the two, especially when coupled with the knowledge of what kind of a leader he was dealing with her.

His master had been fighting Princess Sally for more than seven years. He had superior forces, firepower, and nearly unlimited resources. That in combination with the fact that so many successful incursions had been made into Robotropolis, and so many of his master's schemes foiled, kept reminding him that he was dealing with a very cunning adversary who knew exactly what she was doing.

About another quarter of an hour passed, and finally, his prey took an abrupt turn and dived into a rocky cul-de-sac. The abrupt cliffs made it to where he could no longer see them, and he slowed down, not wishing to run blindly into some form of an ambush. He did stay up in the trees, though, as he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway in the event that he needed to. Slowly rounding about to where he could see into the place, he tried to think of what to do.

There was an overhang down at the end, where he could see a couple of the enemy lying prone on the group, their weapons leveled and waiting for him. A well placed overcharge shot would probably kill them, as well as anyone who might have been hiding further back, out of his sight. However, his high priority targets were no doubt mixed in among them, so that ruled out that option. A good as his climbing skills were, he didn't fancy the idea of trying to climb down that rock wall, especially considering that it angled inward, a climber's worst nightmare, not to mention the fact that even with his active camouflage, he could be painfully visible to anyone who looked up. Complicating maters further was that the rest of the place was made of the same granite rocks. He could theoretically use those to try and get in; but again, the sound of him sinking his vibro claws into the rock would probably be heard, to say nothing of what might happen if he accidentally dislodged something. That left him with two options: either a ground approach, or using the trees once again. Of those, he preferred the former, as it both gave him a high ground advantage, and the ability to avoid nasty little surprises that they might have left on the ground.

He jumped again, and landed on a branch that was nearly thirty feet away. He started to inch forward along it, moving as slowly as he could, not wishing for his movement to give him away to an enemy that he knew without a doubt was expecting him. He had not gone far however, when he noticed something.

He had been reaching out with his hand, planning to gently pull himself forward. However, he spotted something: a thin little piece of wire, a monofilament that was nearly invisible unless one was actually looking for it. It was tight across his path, attached to something that was both above and below him. Looking down, he saw one end secured to a branch that was further down.

The other end was connected to the priming device of a thermal detonator, not three meters away from him. If he caused any further tension along the line, it would cause the thing to activate, and while he was certain that his armor would protect him from the heat, the concussion, and the shrapnel, he knew his cover would be blown. In fact, such a blast might even being this part of the tree down on top of him, something that would not be good for his health.

Oh, the princess was clever alright. Looking over, he saw similar devices that were set up around the various trees and branches. They were cunningly hidden, and he only spotted them now be he knew what to look for. If he'd gone another three inches forward…

Regardless, his enemy had effectively sealed off the above ground entrance, this would funnel him into entering just as they wanted him to. For a moment, he felt like cursing. This was obviously a trap of some kind, never mind that he couldn't pick up anything suspicious with his sensors. He would be on the ground, faced with an adversary of superior numbers and firepower, who doubtlessly had a few tricks up their sleeves to help them out. Still, he had his orders, and he knew what he had to do.

Moving backwards as slowly as he could, he jumped back to where the trees were outside of the cul-de-sac. He then leapt to the ground, making certain that the noise was minimal, so as not to picked up by the enemy. Then, his senses alert, he cautiously reentered on foot, wondering if any step might set something off.

He tried to stick to the sides, to remain as inconspicuous as possible. However, he had not gone far when he discovered what looked to disturbances of the pine needles a few feet in front of him. Curious, he leaned down, and saw that they had recently been moved around, though someone had cleverly tried to hide the evidence of what they had done. Looking back up at his quarry, he made certain that they were not watching him, and then slowly moved some of the needles away.

It was a hastily dug leg breaker trap, a pit, about a foot and a half deep, and just big enough around that his foot would be able to fit through it. The trap was somewhat mislabeled, as it did not necessary resulted in the breaking of the leg of a person who was caught in it, however, it would once again be rather obvious impediment, and both the initial fall and his subsequent attempt to get out would probably alert the guerillas.

Worse, he doubted there would be only one, and he'd only spotted this one because the person who had made it appeared to be in something of a rush. Thus, carefully testing each step, he'd moved forward.

Some feet later, he'd almost stepped into another one that was more cleverly hidden. There were others closer to it, he noticed, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being herded, channeled into where the opposition wanted him to be. A rueful smile came over him as he realized that the tables had turned for a moment. Now, he was the prey, and they the predators. Very well, it looked as if he would have to play their little game, and see what they were up to. It appeared to be the only way to get close to them, after all. He didn't like this, but he had no other choice.

Thus he'd continued forward. However, he had not gone more than another twenty feet when it happened. He put his foot down, and the next thing that he was aware of was a strange noise, followed by a distinct feeling of weightlessness as he was thrown on his back and found himself shooting up into the air.

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Okay, stopping there for now. Hopefully, this chapter isn't as bad as I thought it was, but should that prove not to be the case, call out anything you see wrong, and I will be more than happy to change it, as I truly wish for this story to be the best it can be. Other comments, such as general ideas, constructive criticisms, or flames will also be accepted.

Also, there might be an additional delay on another update, as due to the request of a friend, I have been writing a brief 'Star Wars vs. Trek' story. Personally (and I have this uneasy feeling I will be clobbered for this) I have always felt that the Empire would hand the Federation its self righteous rear… gift wrapped… with a little pink bow on top…

This position is due mainly to the Empire's numerical superiority and their complete lack of ethics (they have no qualms about reducing planets to asteroid belts or turning unarmed civilians into smoldering skeletons). But, I digress, I am getting off topic… though there is a slight chance that I might post the story once I get it all cleaned up…

Anyways, hope you have a great day, and that this has been worth you time. See you again next time.


	18. The Most Dangerous Game

Greetings, one and all, and I hope this Labor Day weekend treats you well. College has been… different… this time around, between having to walk two miles (uphill) to get to my classes, and the wacky times at which they are, its been tough to get used to. ON the flip side, I am getting some exercise, and a funny thing happened to a classmate of mine. He went to buy a book, and something went horribly awry with the barcode, resulting in said book costing him somewhere in the neighborhood of 978,000 dollars… I mean, I know college books are supposed to be expensive, but good lord, that had better be real gold on the cover for that price!

He managed to get it sorted out, and we all got a good laugh, though.

At any rate, I hope you enjoy chapter eighteen.

Lawyers: you know the drill by now, I don't own a thing here, except for my OCs, or more appropriately, their remains…

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The Most Dangerous Game…

The trees rushed up to meet him, and Norrack could feel what felt like some kind of rope pressing his arms to his sides. He needed about half a second to figure out what had happened. He had just been caught in a net trap, one that was apparently designed to leave him helpless in the air. A growl came from within him. If they thought that they could keep him contained like this, they were sadly mistaken.

Then he heard a pulsing noise, and felt his active camouflage fade into nothingness. Looking around, he spotted what had happened. There was an EMP mine attached to the rope. Ah, so that had been their plan, to render his shields inoperable, and make him utterly helpless to counter fire. Down below, he heard an order given to open fire, and he knew his peril. He didn't have to be trapped for very long, just long enough for the firepower of the nineteen odd targets down there to finish him off. Against an enemy force that had slug throwers, a pair of heavy plasma cannons, thermal detonators, and whatever that Mandalorian had hidden on his armor, even his sturdy defenses wouldn't hold for very long. He had to break free, now.

Thinking quickly, he extended his vibro claws as he felt the first shots beginning to connect with his armor, the impacts rocking him back and forth in the netting. A few of them hit the webbing of the net, but far more were hitting him, and he needed to escape, before they began hitting him instead of his armor. Moving his arm as best he could, he sliced through some of the mesh, freeing his arm a little more. This enabled him to move his arm up, and another stroke freed up his plasma caster. Without a moment to spare, he activated it, got it properly oriented, and fired at the main supports of the trap. The energy bolts ripped through them, freeing him as the net fell away.

However, while he was not worried about the fall to the ground, which appeared to be about a good forty feet or so, something happened that caused him to quickly reevaluate the tactical abilities of his foes.

A shot rang out, and a single plasma bolt sailed away, slicing through what appeared to be a vine. However, as it disappeared up into the canopy, Norrack could only watch in surprise as a small tree trunk came flying at him. It intercepted him almost perfectly, catching him just below the ribs. Were it not for their ferrosteel plating, the cyborg knew that his ribcage would likely have been crushed by the impact. As it was, however, he merely found himself disoriented and the wind was knocked from him.

He hit the ground, the impact leaving a faintly perceivable dent in the ground of about a centimeter in depth. Distantly, he could still hear blaster fire, and a lot of it impacting upon or around him. He was still dazed from the unexpected impact and his belly flop from forty feet up, and he had to will himself to avoid throwing up the ration cubes he'd eaten earlier, as it would have made quite a mess inside of a sealed suit. He knew that he had to get up, that he had to fight back, or these rebels would gun him down. As if to accentuate the point, another bolt hit his shoulder, the carbon scoring turning the dark grey armor black.

A growl came from behind the helmet, and somewhere, from some unknown reserve, he found the will and the energy to stand once again. He would not go down like this! He would not fail!

The growl became a roar, echoing off of the rocks, filled with a power that seemed almost beyond mortal. In a flash, Norrack was back up on his feet, his kaiburr sword ignited and blazing. In the same fluid motion, he began to weave the bluish white blade around, deflecting bolts as they came towards him, all the while he fired back with his own weapon.

A Freedom Fighter fell to the ground, the majority of his upper body a smoldering wreck as the caster's powerful bursts ripped through them. However, that was merely one gun removed, there were still eighteen people firing at him, some of them with slug throwers, which he could not block very well, and a pair of them with heavy squad assault weapons. Frantically, he dodged to the left, hoping to avoid some of their fire, trying to buy himself some time.

However, every way he looked at his current dilemma seemed to end in defeat. He couldn't leap back up into the trees, due to the fact that they were rigged fit to bursting with thermal detonators. If he turned around to try and run, odds were that he'd be cut down before he could make it out of here. Once again, the guerillas were grouped so that his vital targets were intermingling around with the ones he could dispose of, so an overcharge shot was out of the question.

He was about to accept the fact that victory was impossible, and that his best bet was to simply charge in and try to slaughter as many rebels as he could, while radioing in his failure for Mecha or someone to come along and try to finish the job, when a most peculiar thing occurred.

A bolt hit him in the chest, causing him to stumble a bit, and it was then that it happened. Abruptly, he noticed he seemed to move far more slowly than he otherwise would have. For a moment, he feared that his systems were malfunctioning or that this was some precursor to his death. However, as if it possessed a will of its own, his right arm suddenly snapped up, bringing his kaiburr sword around and deflecting a plasma bolt. The crimson beam of energy ricocheted back and actually hit the soldier in the chest, though his armor prevented it from being a killing blow.

What surprised Norrack was that the whole event seemed to happen in slow motion, his arm moving, the bolt sailing back and forth. It was as if everyone was fighting in mud or something like that. He wondered if this was some undocumented side effect of his neural lace, perhaps working in tandem with the adrenaline rush of knowing that he was doomed to failure, that he was going to die.

The ARC trooper charged forward, firing his plasma caster as he did so. This dropped the man whose bolt he had deflected earlier. As before, everything seemed to move much more slowly now, himself included. However, whatever this strange phenomenon was, it was certainly giving him more time to react to the changing parameters of this battle, thus he was not complaining. Still, he had no idea how long this effect of his neural lace, if indeed that was even the source of it, would last. He had to move swiftly, relatively speaking, and reduce the enemy to a non threatening number before it wore off.

Charging along the sides of the cul-de-sac, he proceeded to do just that. As he had yesterday in the command hut, he was attempting to line his foes up into something that was roughly single file, so as to limit the amount of fire they could throw at him. Once he did that, it was simple target prioritization from there. There were two non mission specific targets that were equipped with the flechette shotguns that had so far made his life hell. They were the first to go, one of them having his head removed by a well placed shot from his caster, while the other one had a DC-19 bolt deflected into his throat.

As their corpses fell to the ground, it became time for him to focus on the Lexs. However, here he was presented with something of a problem, as both of them were being manned by targets that had to be kept alive, namely Bunnie and Rotor. They were already reorienting the massive plasma cannons to direct their fire at him, and he knew he'd be in real trouble after that. This strange time slowdown might have been giving him more time to react to things, but he could still only move his arms so fast.

He got an idea then, something that might help him pull this off. He'd have to be careful, as the princess and the coyote still appeared to be carrying slug throwers, but right now it looked as if he'd have the advantage if he was more up close and personal. A plan formed quickly, and he charged towards them, whipping his energy blade back and forth, his hand once again moving as if of its own accord, inexplicable defeating almost every attempt to land a hit on him. It puzzled him, truth be known, and somewhere, deep within the back of his mind, he wondered what was going on. Perhaps the cybernetic components of his nervous system were assisting in a higher degree than he though, perhaps working in tandem with his own neural signals to actually predict where the next shot was going to be coming from? If that proved to be the case, then what had brought this on?

He decided that he would worry about that later, as he had a far more pressing matter to deal with. He was nearly upon them now, firing his plasma caster in Antoine's direction. The shot, however, was not intended to hit the coyote, much to the royal guard's surprise. Instead, he dropped his weapon as the bolt connected with it, turning the barrel to slag and heating the rest of the weapon up to where it was literally too hot to handle. Snarling, the guerilla drew his vibro blade and activated his energy shield, hoping that he wouldn't need them, but preparing nonetheless.

Another shot came from the plasma caster, this one a burst that hit Rotor's weapon. The walrus' surprise registered upon his face, as the weapon was rendered useless. It made the technician wonder just how much power was behind that shoulder mounted weapon, as he remembered all the shots that had skipped off of it during the battle at Knothole.

Bunnie's Lex met with a different fate, as by this time, the ARC trooper had managed to close in to grappling range. Norrack lashed out with his kaiburr sword, cutting the barrel of the weapon off and turning it into something that was not even worth its weight in scrap. However, Bunnie was able to retaliate and land a good punch to the cyborg's midsection with her robotic fist. As a result, the commando went flying backwards, landing prostrate upon his rear and presenting himself as a fabulous target to anyone who chose to fire on him.

The ARC apparently realized the danger that he was in as well, as he was back up on his feet as quickly as he could. He then charged in again, both of his melee weapons cocked back and ready to strike. He reached his first two targets, and he cut them down with little difficulty, ducking down underneath the range of their blasters and cutting them both in half at the waist. He then came up, and another burst from his caster took a soldier down, blowing her chest open and killing her before she even had time to scream.

By now, his foes were starting to realize that it was going to take a lot more to bring him down than they had originally thought, and they were turning about, maneuvering themselves to where Norrack would have hit back to the cul-de-sac, and they would be able to retreat if that proved to be necessary. Grudgingly, the cyborg gave ground, realizing that if they got away this time, he could try and pursue later.

Two soldiers, apparently thinking to try and buy time for their royal charges to get away dropped their blasters and drew vibro blades, before carefully moving up to engage the ARC trooper. Norrack had to give them credit, they didn't try to come charging in blindly or anything like that. No, they came at him from the sides, trying to force him to split his attention between them.

They were brave, and skilled, but even in his battered and damaged state, he was still more than a match for them, and they probably knew it. Still, every second they kept him delayed was more time for the others to get away.

The first one came in low, trying to cut his legs out from under him, while his comrade attempted to pierce his defenses by striking near his neck. Both attacks were stopped by claw and blade, and he quickly threw both of his assailants backwards, temporarily turning his back upon one, hoping that he could defeat his chosen foe before the other could recover. What truly surprised him though was just how long this strange time warp, or whatever in Julian's name it really was, was going on. It made melee combat surprisingly simple, and made a mental note to inform his master of it, if he survived that was.

He returned himself to the present, concentrating on trying to drop his opponent. He would be successful in that endeavor a second later, swatting the vibro blade aside with his kaiburr sword, while bringing his claws in to finish the job. The talons ripped through the man's protective armor, and he went down, blood frothing upon his lips. Without a moment's hesitation, he twisted about. He was just in time to stop his female opponent from trying to tear out his spine with her weapon. He lifted his right leg, and kicked the attack aside before severing her sword arm with a deft spin of his energy sword.

Crying out in surprise, she dropped to the ground, and the cyborg went to finish her.

However, something stopped him from doing so. He felt a tingling sensation in the back of his mind, a prickling, for lack of a better term, and he suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of danger around him. Without truly knowing why, he leapt up into the air.

Again, in that strange form of slow motion, he watched events unfold. A buster rocket sped by underneath him, heading for the depression that the Freedom Fighters had originally been hiding out in. The rocket exploded, a fireball streaming outward, causing rocks to fall and some of the underbrush to catch on fire. Twisting about in mid jump the ARC trooper saw the Mandalorian standing at the mouth of the cul-de-sac, his right arm leveled at where he had just been standing.

Realizing that his would be sneak attack had failed, Derrick turned and fled back into the woods, hurrying to catch up with the rest of the group.

Norrack paused for one brief moment, just the time that he needed to end the life of the soldier that he'd wounded, before attempting to go after his fleeing quarry. However, he had not gone two steps when the pain reached him. He stumbled to his knees, and began to look over himself.

He was surprised, and he wondered how he was still alive. His armor was practically one giant streak of carbon scoring, and the Aratech's under weave had been penetrated in several locations, spilling green hydrostatic gel everywhere. There were also two injuries that had been dealt to him, one was near his side, where repeated blaster shots had pierced both the zersium plates and what lay beneath it, and the other to his upper arm, which was sparking badly, the servos and circuitry damaged to a point where he was surprised that the arm still functioned. Groaning, the cyborg reached into his belt, took out his med pack, and withdrew the last of his bacta, before applying it to the wound.

For the damage to his right upper arm, he withdrew a different device. This one looked almost like a miniature calking gun, and held millions of nanites within it, tiny robots literally built atom upon atom. Their sole purpose was to repair damage to circuitry and metal. Unfortunately, they did not have the ability to repair the damage that had been done to his fuel cells, or else he would have used them earlier when his generator had been damaged. This was mainly due to the nature in which they operated. The tiny robots carried small base components within themselves, ranging from ferrosteel to conducting wire bits, and they were preprogrammed with the knowledge of what they were supposed to be repairing. Upon being realized, they scanned the area, discerned exactly what part of the machine they were fixing, and then got into position, using their onboard cargo to do the job. Once that was done, they made their way to the surface, where their bodies would then link up, and commit the mechanized form of mass suicide, initiating a program that caused them to break down and actually form into a plate over the damage.

It wasn't the best way of fixing things overall, but it was certainly convenient, and pretty fast.

As the little machines went to work repairing the damage to his cybernetic limb, he found himself cursing the decision that he had made earlier. He had opted for stealth over protection, and found himself needing his shields more than the ability to move about unseen. Still, a single bad choice upon his part did not necessarily mean that all was lost. He could still complete his mission, although he doubted that his master would be pleased with the amount of battle damage that had been done to him.

The ARC trooper waited while his repairs were underway, wondering what had truly occurred here, musing over all the possibilities for what had happened in this cul-de-sac.

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They ran, their leg muscles burning, their bodies begging for rest, their minds knowing they had to try and put some distance between them and the killing machine that they were leaving behind.

Sally couldn't help but think of the bodies they were leaving behind as well, and she cursed herself. They had died, and it had apparently been in vain. Her plan hadn't worked, and they'd lost eight people because of it. It appeared that even with his shields taken down by the EMP mine that the zerisum armor had been able to put up with an outstanding level of punishment. However, she felt as if there was more to it that, that there was something else that had occurred back there.

Yes, now that she thought about it, there was. Zersium armor or not, Norrack should have been cut down by the sheer volume of firepower that they'd thrown at him. However, he'd managed to reflect so many of their shots away with that blasted energy blade of his, more than she had ever seen him do before before. Somehow, it just didn't seem possible for him to have reflexes that were that good, his neural lace aside. Deep down, she suspected there was more to the ARC than what they knew, and it was filling her with dread.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of running, she called a halt, letting her people pause and take a breather. After all, so far Norrack had demonstrated that even while they were running full tilt and he was forced to keep to the trees to stay out of their sight, he had still be able to keep up and even outdistance them. Thus, she concluded that if he had been immediately on their tails, he would have attacked again.

"Wonderful plan, princess," Geoffrey growled, nursing a stitch in his side, his face contorted into a derisive snarl. "Did you happen to have a backup plan in the event that he got free?"

"I thought that we'd be able to kill him even if he did, that the damage…" she began.

"Well, we didn't," he growled back.

"I was not seeing you contributing anything useful, you stinking fool!" Antoine snapped, cutting him off, shaking his vibro blade at the colonel.

"The good captain in correct," Derrick responded, his voice deathly calm as he tried to ignore the fiery pain that came from his cracked ribs, which had not taken to the sprinting very well. "You did not offer one idea or suggestion. At least the princess had a plan to try and stop Norrack. What was yours, have us run all over these woods like chickens with our heads cut off until that thing cuts us all down?"

"Listen, Mando," Geoffrey fired back, "I don't take orders from your kind…"

"But you do take orders from me!" Sally said, trying to reestablish command of the situation. They needed to be united for this, and all this infighting was not helping.

"Then what do you suggest?" the skunk inquired, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone one of man who was convinced that this would not work either.

"We need to split up," the princess said, looking over to her brother, silently conveying to him exactly what she meant.

"But sis," Elias began, a look of shock upon his face, "dividing ourselves right now?"

"We give our foe two separate targets that he has to track down, it increases the chances of one of us getting to safety," she said.

The others remained silent, not saying much of anything. They understood the cold, hard logic behind the ground squirrel's decision. It was the truth. They had no heavy weapons left, and Sally had the only slug thrower, of which she only had six shots left for it. Actually, they did have Derrick's missiles, but thus far the ARC trooper had proven that he could dodge busters with little difficulty, and the Death Watchman knew that his final stinger would be of limited use here, too many trees.

"Geoffrey, Sir Charles, Lupe, Reynard, Rotor," she said, bitter resignation in her tone, "you'll protect Elias, everyone else will come with me and we'll try to get to Blue Brook by another means."

"We're not about to entrust your care to him," Geoffrey spat, gesturing to Derrick, who did not respond, though his body language indicated that if it were not were the circumstances of the moment, that he would have probably done something less than pleasant to the skunk.

"And I don't trust the two of you together!" Sally snapped, tired of the constant infighting. "Now pair up and move out. Goddess willing, we'll see each other again at Blue Brook."

That last bit had been meant to drive home the point of this, to remind them, unnecessarily, that there was an extremely dangerous killing machine out there that was not going to stop until either they or it was down for good.

With that they went their separate ways, each one of them hoping against hope that they would see their friends again.

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He moved slowly, his eyes carefully scanning about. His enemy might have left their explosives and the remnants of their heavy weapons back at the cul-de-sac, but Norrack knew that they had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they did not need those to be a threat to him.

They had hurt him, injured him quite grievously, and it seemed as though sheer dumb luck was the only thing that had kept him alive during that assault. His wounds might have been either repaired or healed, but the cyborg knew now that his armor was too banged up to be of much use to him. He lacked the supplies necessary to repair the damage. Also, the fact that most of his hydrostatic gel had leaked out meant that he would now be blatantly obvious on any form of thermal visor or other such instrument. Further complicating things was the fact that the beating his Mark VIII had taken seemed to have also rendered his active camouflage inoperable.

He was irritated to say the least.

Still, as long as he drew breath, he would continue to hunt down his prey. Thus, he kept his eyes on the ground, following their trail. It was not long after that that he noticed the split up, with one group heading northeast, the other northwest. For a moment, he mussed over what he might do, the choices that he could make. He knew that they were busy getting away from him, but he was not about to jump the gun on this decision, particularly after what had happened last time he'd been faced with a choice like this.

Finally, he decided that it was time for him to try and call in a status report. Maybe he'd be able to get through this time and inform his master of all that was happening.

Opening up a long range comm. channel, he waited for any form of acknowledgement to come from Robotropolis.

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The little man felt the sweat beading down his forehead and turning his uniform damp, making him both uncomfortably hot and cold at the same time. The sweat was one of a nerve wracked man, and he forced himself to swallow as he continued to look over the reports that were printing out of the computers.

Hours had passed since the Freedom Fighters had begun their strikes into the city. They had been driven off, some killed, others captured, and Snivley had thought that it was over. Unfortunately, mere minutes had passed before second wave of guerilla soldiers had begun attacking, running around and causing havoc on a scale that the Overlander had never before witnessed. The defenses around the command center had held strong, and any attempt to penetrate the perimeter had swiftly been thrown back by the thousand or so battle droids that had been pulled back to guard the heart of his uncle's dark empire.

However, upon realizing that the Swat Bots were not going to be moving from their defensive positions, the rebels had decided that they would simply try to and do as much damage as they possibly could to the surrounding infrastructure.

There was an ominous growl from behind him, and he turned around and beheld his uncle, who was clearly not very pleased with the situation. He had every right to be angry though, as the miserable little Mobians had destroyed more than two hundred facilities over the last few hours, ranging from droid plants to power conduits to refineries. Knothole might have been burning rubble at the moment, but the little man had to wonder if it hadn't been a pyrrhic victory. They had destroyed the heart of their rebel movement, but in return, they had been dealt a blow that they would spend months recovering from.

A beeping noise drew Snivley from his despair, and he realized that it was Norrack. The cyborg was attempting to call them, and he wondered how long the ARC trooper had had to wait, as one of the rebel squads had brought a jamming device with them that had made communications with Mecha, the Swat Bot army, or the cyborg impossible after their first initial alert as to what was going on. However, the device had recently been spotted by an observation drone, and a tech bot had taken care of it.

Now that they could speak again, the little man certainly hoped that the cyborg had some good news. Praying that that was indeed the case, he brought the ARC trooper's helmet cam up on the main viewing screen, and alerted Robotnik to the communication.

"Report," the overlord growled, the past several hours having put him in something of a foul mood.

"Approximately fifty percent of target group neutralized, along with one nonessential group," Norrack said, causing a smile to come over the face of his master. "However, severe damage to Aratech armor suit was sustained with last engagement, and both shields and camouflage have been rendered inoperative. The Mark VIII itself has also sustained heavy damage and has been breached in several areas, extreme caution will be necessary when fighting the remaining numbers."

"All that can be overcome, Norrack," Julian said, his voice outwardly calm, though Snivley thought he could see that little tic that his uncle got whenever something irritated him.

"Enemy group has also split up into two separate teams, and they are moving away from each other at a rapid pace," the commando continued, "requesting assistance from Mecha to apprehend the two groups before they can escape."

"We'll contact him as soon as you get back underway," Julian said, no longer bothering to hide that he was clearly upset by the fact that his newest toy had been damaged; but he was not letting that anger cloud the fact that one group might very well get away if he didn't do something. "Now get back to the hunt!"

"Acknowledged," Norrack responded in monotone, "proceeding with acquisition of the group heading in the northeast direction."

With that, the line went dead, and the ARC trooper sped off to complete his task.

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The android was rather surprised when he received word from his creator that he was to drop what he was doing and head off to help Norrack capture the core Freedom Fighter groups. That surprise was swiftly followed by a mixture of anger and a feeling he could only describe as a pleasurable giddiness.

The anger he felt because of what he saw as him having to cover up for the ARC trooper's screw up, that he was being pulled away from a job that he happened to be enjoying very much, namely slaughtering every sentient biological that he managed to come across; a number that was approaching the sixties at the current moment.

The pleasure, however, was for the exact same reason. After the initial moments of the order passed he realized what it meant: that Norrack was inferior to him all along. In his positron brain, the fact that the cyborg had found himself unable to deal with one group of fleeing rebels, while he himself had neutralized more than three times that many, was all the proof that he needed as to who was more effective than whom.

Kicking up his afterburners to their highest setting, the mechanized hedgehog set out in pursuit of the group that had been heading northwest to Norrack's relative position. A smile was on his face, as he imagined that he would show whoever composed it the true meaning of terror, of what a true killing machine was capable of doing.

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Running, that's what they were doing. By the heavens, that was all that they seemed to be doing lately, just running and fleeing.

He hated it, hated having to always retreat with his tail between his legs, always leaving more bodies behind them.

Memories flashed through his mind, memories of the last time he'd had to run from this thing, this monster, this demon. He remembered his squad, every face, every name. All of them, cut down by Norrack, slaughtered by the ARC trooper. One by one, they rushed through his mind, mocking him, tormenting him, nearly overwhelming him. He tried to shut out the images, tried to close his ears to the voices that bantered back and forth inside his brain.

Gunter let out a snarl and shook his head violently, drawing a look from Derrick. The cougar couldn't make out anything behind that helmet that the Mandalorian was wearing, but he suspected that it was probably one of worry. The Pinewood Freedom Fighter had to suppress a wry and bitter smile as he thought about the old warrior. Less than two weeks ago, he couldn't stand to be in the same room as the guy, had despised him with all his heart simply because of what he was, because of the armor he wore upon his aging body.

The Death Watchman had proven to be the better man, though. He'd saved both his life and Amy, and had fearlessly tried to drive Norrack off while they'd fled. The cloaked killer might have been just tailing them at the time, trying to see where they were going, but they hadn't known that, and after what they had seen that demon do…

His thoughts drifted back to his old squad again, and the torment began anew, churning over and over again within his mind. He saw Carlos frantically trying to level his rifle as the ARC trooper bore down on him, his energy sword raised to cut the canine in half. He saw Marty, his eyes shut as he screamed, his right arm clutching at the remnants of his left, his world no doubt a blurring haze of agony in the final moments of his life. He remembered Rick, seemingly floating off the ground as Norrack held him there, his vibro claws buried up to the hilt through his back. Kara… her eyes haunted him more than anything, pleading with him, begging for him to help her, to somehow save her as the cyborg had driven his kaiburr sword through her heart.

He'd failed them all; let them all die on his watch. And then, as if that had not been enough, he'd gone and led that monster back to his home. Everyone who'd died there, everyone except for him and Amy and Derrick, had been killed because he'd run back like a coward.

Such was the game that guilt played. Somewhere, a part of him knew that he'd gone back to try and warn the rest of the village about the new soldier that Robotnik had, that they had to be made aware of the new threat. However, guilt overrode that, and a much louder voice taunted him about all the blood that stained his hands, because he'd been a fool and had made a beeline straight for Pinewood. It tormented him over and over again, telling him that he'd been an idiot. That he should have known that the thing would try and follow him, that he should have realized why Norrack had let him go. But he hadn't, and scores had died because of it.

Finally, the guilt and self loathing got to him, and something within the cougar snapped. However, he did not break in the traditional sense; no, he did not turn into a pitiful ball of crying and whimpering. Instead, he broke in the other way, and became consumed by a surge of hatred that he could no longer control. With a snarl, he stopped and turned back to face the woods behind him.

The others noticed, and stopped as well, looking back at Gunter and wondering what was wrong with him.

"What's wrong?" Sally inquired, a look of concern evident upon her face.

"I'm not running from that thing any longer," was the growled reply, so distorted by rage that she and the others could barely understand what he had said.

"You cannot be being serious!" Antoine stated, completely baffled by what he was hearing. "You cannot…"

"Listen, buddy," the feline snarled, his ears lying back as he reached out and grabbed the coyote around the throat, "I know what I can and cannot do, and what I can't do any more is keep running away from that thing!"

The old Antoine would have probably shrieked like a lady and started muttering something in his native language. The royal guard that stood there now, on the other hand, did no such thing. He held the cat's stare, looking into his eyes and seeing the blinding anger, the pure, unadulterated hatred that burned within them. He reached up, and removed Gunter's hand from around his neck, wondering how he might dissuade the other soldier from this suicidal change of attitude.

"Look, Gunter, we all know what that thing did to you…" Bunnie said in a gentle voice, drawing a glare from the cat, "but we have to stick together, you can't face this thing alone!"

"Yeah, but maybe I can get even!" Gunter retorted, baring his fangs once more, his free hand clinching into a fist.

"We don't even know if it's still following us," Sally said, his voice quavering slightly, torn between her fear for those in this group, of two of her best friends, and the thought of the others being hunted down by the ARC trooper. "But Bunnie's right. You can't avenge your friends by taking this thing on by yourself."

The cougar's response to her attempt at diplomacy was to turn his back to her, and double check all of his equipment.

"Rest assured, princess, it's following us, I can feel it," he muttered, his grip on his rifle so tight that one could see his skin becoming pale beneath his fur.

"Let him go," Derrick said softly, causing the others to look at him. "He has to face his demons, one way or the other."

Sally looked like she was about to object, but Bunnie cut her off, apparently realizing what the old artic fox was thinking.

"The longer we stand around here arguing, the closer Norrack's gonna be behind us," she said, looking the ground squirrel dead in the eye. "We've got to get you out of here before that thing can catch up to us."

It went against everything the princess felt inside of herself, and she silently wept for Gunter; for him to have gone through all that he had, to have endured a burden that no person should have had to carry. She'd heard of this before, survivor's guilt, it was called, and it had apparently reached a point that the soldier could no longer endure.

Antoine walked up to her and turned her around, motioning for her to resume running through the Great Forest. Reluctantly, she did so, knowing that there was nothing she could do to help Gunter. He was lost to them, a dead man walking. It was a kind of causality that she had never seen before, and in many ways, it was worse than watching a man get gunned down.

Steeling herself, she continued on, a prayer in her mind for the cougar's tortured soul.

Derrick remained behind for just a little bit longer. He had known Gunter for a long time, and though he was well aware of the cougar's dislike of him up until recently, it all seemed so petty in light of what was going on.

"Good luck, _ner vod,_' he said, laying a hand on the other Mobian's shoulder. "Die free and well."

"I'll try to make sure I get a good hit or two in before it kills me," the cougar replied, his tone somber, but the rage and anger was still there, still perceptible. "Just make certain that Sally and the others get to safety. I'll… try to slow it down. Hell, maybe I can even force it to back off before it takes me out."

Derrick nodded silently. He'd seen this sort of thing before. It could crop up in the best of soldiers, in men who'd been trained for years not to let things get this personal in battle. He'd come to realize that sometimes no amount of training or mental discipline could compensate for the horrors of war and for the irrationality of the Mobian soul.

Turning, he followed after the others as quickly as his aging body would allow.

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The android paused, his audio receptors twitching back and forth in a manner that was disturbingly similar to an organic. A cruel, wicked smile crept over his face as he realized that the other group was near. Judging by their tracks, it looked like there were six of them all together and he rubbed his hands gleefully at the though of the havoc that he would unleash. He hoped against hope that this would be Sally's group. By capturing her, along with any of her accursed friends, he would prove once and for all that he was the better of the two, that he was superior that stinking cyborg that he was always, _always_, playing second fiddle to.

Oh yes, victory would be sweet indeed. If this was the group that the princess was in, it would be a moment that he would savor for years to come. If it turned out to be a decoy group, or the one that held Elias, if they had indeed split the royals up in hopes of at least one of them escaping, then woe unto them, for he would not be pleased.

He always did have this annoying habit of taking his rage out upon his targets...

Kicking up his afterburners, letting their distinctive whine piece the air as he prepared himself for a blitzkrieg styled rush. It would alert the enemy to his approach, but he sincerely doubted that whatever they had with them would be enough to stop a unit of _his_ caliber.

He was upon them in seconds, but to his disappointment, it turned out that this was apparently the prince's group. Nonetheless, he spotted both Sir Charles and Rotor among the group, and comforted himself with the knowledge that he would be able to bag a couple of brownie points from Julian out of this.

The group was on full alert, and they began firing upon him immediately. However, while skilled, they were trying to target something that had the reflexes and reaction times of a machine, superhuman capabilities. One round, fired from the male wolf, managed to connect, but it did minimal damage to him, barely scoring the armor plating.

Mecha responded with a barrage from his own integrated weaponry. The wolf was able to dive out of the way, firing his weapon his blaster all the while. As before though, he hit naught but air.

More shots came from behind the android, and he found himself facing the female wolf. Smirking, he decided to taunt her by letting a round or two come within a hairsbreadth of connecting with him, before he charged forward at her. The girl's eyes widened as he closed the distance, before coming up and round housing her. A crack split the air as her ribs broke underneath the assault, and she went down in a heap.

A cry of rage came from the male a second later, and he threw himself at the android, paying absolutely no mind to the energy bolts that were zipping around the machine. Mecha simply laughed, before grabbing him with one arm, and flipping him over his head. Halfway through, he twisted his wrist, and a wet popping noise met his audio receptors as the wolf's arm was dislocated at the shoulder. He then turned, and fired off a burst at the walrus.

Rotor saw the shots coming, but he couldn't get out of the way in time, and they hit him dead on in his chest. His armor stopped the plasma rounds, but the intensity of the blasts caused his gear to start glowing like a noonday sun. That heat transferred through to the flesh beneath it, and he screamed in agony as he felt himself be branded by his own protective gear. He fell to the ground, frantically trying to get the armor off, trying to stop it from burning him alive.

Sir Charles was next, stumbling backwards as Mecha dashed forward and gave him a swift head-butt. A double handed strike to his mid-section sent his sprawling, a grunt coming from him as he hit the ground.

Elias had been standing right next to the roboticized hedgehog, and Mecha paused long enough to extend his vibro claws and cut his CM-44 in half, before rushing at the final armed member of the group: Geoffrey St. John.

He knew much about this soldier, very much indeed. The skunk was capable, but arrogant, and rather vain. Robotnik hadn't stated whether he wanted him alive or dead, so the android figured it was probably best to err on the side of caution, and leave him breathing. However, breathing and intact were two different things, and he figured that after all that he'd done that it was time for him to finally have a little bit of fun.

St. John was able to get two shots off from his bowcaster before the war machine was on top of him. Mecha then reached out, and grabbed the weapon, before crushing it and the arm it was mounted on. The skunk went down with a cry as the mechanized hedgehog continued to apply pressure, further damaging the bones of his arm. With a devilish smirk, he raised his left hand, and cocked it back.

Geoffrey saw some sunlight glint off of the weapon, watched it dance along the edge, before it came streaking down towards his face. His breath caught in his throat and his mouth parted in a silent scream as the two vibro claws tore down the side of his face, nearly laying it open to the bone.

But Mecha wasn't done yet, as he quickly reversed the stroke, tearing it back up as he came across the bared flesh once more, taking out the skunk's left eye and partially scalping him as well. He chuckled in a sadistic manner as he watched the colonel writhe about in agony, his screams piercing the air; pure music as far as the android was concerned.

He was wondering what he should slice up next before something totally unexpected happened. He felt his world suddenly spin, and what passed for the robotic equivalent of pain went through his metal cranium. Staggering back and clutching his wounded area, he stared about, wondering if Elias or one of the wolves had somehow managed to attack him.

Surprisingly, it was neither of those options, but rather Sir Charles that had been the result of the blow. The worker bot stood his ground, both of his fists raised and his electronic eyes, which now glowed with the intensity of a furnace, narrowed to a glare.

"So you wanna play rough, eh, old man?" the android asked, smirking at the thought of a mere roboticized Mobian attempting to hold him, a machine that was built for carnage and killing, at bay.

Sir Charles said nothing, and merely shifted his footing about. Mecha then realized that the old scientist was waiting for him to make the next move. With that laugh that was so unnervingly like his organic nemesis, he did so, charging forward with his claws extended and ready to rip the old man apart. After all, he could always be put back together again.

Indeed, Uncle Chuck would have been in a very bad way if it had come to a fight. He was unarmed, and made for menial, delicate tasks, not outright battle. His initial attack had only been successful because the killing machine was so preoccupied with its fun. Now that the mechanized hedgehog was bearing down on him, he knew that he would probably have only seconds to do something before he was taken off line.

However, before he could be attacked, he heard a sound that drew relief and disbelief from within his soul.

Mecha heard it too, coming from somewhere off to his left, and twisting about, had just enough time for his eyes to widen as a Wraith bore down on the area, its rear mounted plasma cannon opening up on him. With speed only a machine could have, he dashed out of the way, great clods of earth being shot up behind him.

He snarled at this unexpected bit of assistance, but he still believed that he could accomplish his directives. It was only one enemy craft, after all, and he could more than likely evade fire from the gunner long enough to take it out.

As he went to do so, however, two more of the assault craft showed up, all of their weapons firing at him, trying to tear him to pieces.

"What the Hell!" he screamed out loud, wondering where on Mobius these things were coming from.

As the three plasma cannons, plus the rotary blasters mounted in the front of the vehicles shredded the foliage around him, the android did the only thin he truly could in the face of such overwhelming firepower: he decided that discretion was apparently the better part of valor.

As he raced away, he took enough time to turn back, and watch a Freedom Fighter transport craft come in as well, suddenly spinning about and having its back hatch spring open, with what looked to be half a dozen soldiers in the rear. They also began to throw down suppression fire, doing all in their power to keep him at bay while they got everyone loaded up.

And there wasn't a thing in the world that he could do about it.

A scream that was one part rage, the other part something one would associate with a spoiled child not getting its way, testified to that fact a moment later.

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Sweat matted his golden fur, dripping into his eyes, making his grip upon his weapon slick. He growled slightly, his fangs showing as he scanned the trees and bushes, searching for any hint of the telltale distortions that would mark his target.

Gunter wasn't certain how long he'd been staring around, waiting for Norrack to show up and take a crack at him, but his patience was starting to wear thin.

"I know you're out there," he muttered, his eyes narrowing, the fury that had made him do this still blazing in his eyes, "now come out and show yourself!"

Fate seemed particularly fickle that day, as he got his wish about a minute later.

He saw movement up in the trees, and felt a bit of surprise go through him as he realized that it was Norrack, and more importantly, that the ARC was not cloaked. For a brief second, he wondered why. Did it suspect that he was nothing even resembling a threat, and thus that the light bending camouflage was not necessary to deal with him? Or could it be that it wasn't working? That they might have damaged him more than they'd realized during the ambush? The later option seemed more viable, he thought, as the armor seemed quite banged up, blackened by blaster fire and with bits of that gel stuff leaking everywhere.

Then the thought passed, and the Freedom Fighter opened up, firing in short controlled bursts with his rifle.

Norrack responded by activating his energy blade, and swatting the offending energy bolts aside with effortless ease. Gunter was not to be deterred, however, and kept up his barrage, hoping to delay the cyborg for as long as he possibly could. Unfortunately, he found himself having to quickly change his plans when his deadly adversary deflected a plasma shot back into his weapon, rendering it inoperable.

Snarling, he dropped it and drew a knife, holding it blade side down, preparing himself but knowing that the little weapon would be useless if the ARC trooper decided to take a crack at him with his plasma caster.

However, Norrack did no such thing, instead dropping down about thirty feet to the ground, and charging at the cougar.

Gunter set himself, awaiting the next world as the cyborg rushed towards him. He got one hit in, bringing his knife down across the zersium chestplate of his foe. Alas, despite its battered condition, the Aratech armor was still capable of turning such a blow, and the force the guerilla soldier put behind it actually worked against him, causing the blade to snap off at the hilt as it connected.

His next moment was pure agony as he felt the ARC trooper's vibro claws burry themselves into him. They entered at his stomach, parting his ferrosteel armor, before driving up into his diaphragm. He opened his mouth, but could find no air to scream. Still, he found himself drawn into his foe's visor, staring into that infinite bit of darkness. Drawing on all the failing strength that he could muster from his dying body, he looked Norrack dead in the eye, willing himself to piece that visor, and see what lay on the other side of it. Perhaps it was an illusion brought on by the pain, but for a moment, he thought he could see a face, and that was all that he needed. He spat at his slayer, blood and saliva mixing as they spattered upon the commando's helmet.

Then he heard a 'shink' and felt himself fall. He hit the ground, his eyes staring up at the sky. A ray of sunlight filtered down through the canopy, and for a second, the tortured man thought he could see his old squad, his friends, calling him home.

Then his world went dark.

Norrack paused to wipe the blood off of his visor and shake it off of his claws, all the while staring down at the corpse. He recognized the Freedom Fighter, of course, it was the same cougar that he'd been told to let go, back during his first mission. He could clearly recall the hate he'd seen in the eyes of the man right before he'd died, and somewhere, deep down, the cyborg felt something strange well up inside of him.

He couldn't place it at first, couldn't understand what it was. Was it anxiety? Fear? Hope? Yes, hope… that was it… funny that he should feel it now. Why? Why was he feeling that now? For several seconds, he mulled over this thought, curious as to why it would encroach upon his consciousness now. Why should killing another enemy make him feel hopeful?

Then, a new way of looking at it struck him. Could he be feeling hope that the man in front of him had found peace in death? Was that what he was thinking?

As he continued to look down upon the mangled corpse, and strange notion came over him, and he suddenly got down on one knee. However, before he could move any further, the pain went through his head again, as the inner voice apparently decided that he had already wasted enough time, and boomed for him to go about his mission, to complete his task.

He struggled, growling behind his helmet for several seconds, all the while his right hand slowly, ever so slowly, stretched forward, shaking all the while. He brought his left hand up to his head, trying to shut out the pain that the voice was causing, while forcing his other one to extend.

After what seemed an eternity, Norrack could feel his hand touching fur, and opening his eyes, which he had shut to try and block the agony out of his mind, saw that he was touching the cougar's muzzle. With every second bringing more throbbing to his brain, he stretched out, and extended his middle and index fingers. He reached up to the cat's eyes, and slowly, gently, closed them.

Then he obeyed the voice, and stood. He then reactivated his kaiburr sword, before dashing off once again, heading for the remainder of the group.

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Okay, hope you all enjoyed that. I must stress one thing, however, and that is that what Norrack was going through was NOT bullet time, but the precursor to something else.

As per usual, any and all manners of feedback are welcome, from constructive criticism, to ideas, to flames, and so forth.

Thank you all for your time, and have a great week. Hopefully I'll see you again. Until then, take care.


	19. Guardians to the End

Happy Labor Day everyone, and I bet you're probably surprised to see an update this soon. Well, I got one of those itches over the weekend, and Saturday saw me writing this whole chapter. I've spent the last two days reviewing it, so hopefully I've managed to catch most of the errors.

It's a bit of a long one, so I hope you'll find it enjoyable.

Lawyers: me owns nothing!

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Guardians to the End

It had been about half an hour since they had left Gunter behind, left him to die at the hands of the killer that was stalking them. They'd been moving as swiftly as they could towards their destination, and Antoine suspected that there were less than ten kilometers left between them and Blue Brook, despite the fact that they had taken a detour.

His thoughts drifted about, settling on everything that had happened lately. He wondered how many of his comrades were dead now, slain during the battle or during the subsequent stalking, as he'd deduced by now that they were not the first group Norrack had hunted down and tried to butcher. Worse yet, how many of his compatriots were currently being hauled back to Robotropolis in restraints, awaiting the grim fate of becoming one of Julian's mindless slaves?

If and when Norrack returned, he wondered if he'd have the courage to face the ARC trooper down, if he'd have what it took to stand his ground in the face of certain death. So far, he'd done a good job of turning over a new leaf, but he felt that old telltale bit of fear creeping around in his belly, trying to convince him to flee if the opportunity should present itself. He promptly tried to squash it, as he knew that was exactly what the cyborg wanted him to do, and it wouldn't help him in the long run anyway.

No, if he was going to die, then he would go out with dignity and honor. He would die the death of a warrior and a royal guard, laying down his life to preserve that of his charge. That was the vow he had made, and by all that was holy he was not going to break it!

Goddess in heaven, how he wished that Sonic was here right now. If he had been, the coyote was sure that his princess would have found some way to use him to take down the nightmare that was chasing them, or, barring that, that he simply could have gotten most of the group to safety, before trying to take it on mono a mono. Of course, Sally would be adamantly against such a thing, insisting that they all work as a team to try and bring the ARC trooper down.

Antoine had to admit that he would have had to probably side with her on that, especially after what he had seen this day. All the punishment that they had dealt their foe… They'd blasted him, hit him with slug throwers, shot rockets and missiles at him, tried to mow him down with plasma cannons. Hell, they'd even thrown a tree at him, and managed to hit him with it, and yet he'd still gotten back up. It was all so unnerving, and it made him wonder if even Sonic would have been able to destroy this monster.

Courage, he had to remind himself, he had to be courageous in this desperate time. Death would come for him eventually, one way or another, and he vowed that he would not be remembered as a coward.

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Elias could hardly dare to believe what had just happened. One moment, Mecha had been ready to capture or kill the whole lot of them (and been well on his way with Geoffrey in regards to the latter), and the next they were being loaded up into a friendly transport while a trio of Wraiths laid down enough covering fire to suppress an army.

Now they were rapidly on their way towards Blue Brook, with the light assault craft providing cover. Medics had stabilized Geoffrey, and everyone else would be fine, although Rotor would likely have the pattern of the ferrosteel plates of his armor burned into his chest for years to come. He himself was relatively unhurt, and he wondered if the android had been operating on specific orders to keep him alive and unharmed. He'd certainly had the opportunity to kill him when he'd sliced his gun in half, and yet he hadn't followed through, had gone after St. John instead.

That thought just made him worry all the more for his sister, who was still out there somewhere. These soldiers, as it turned out, were from Blue Brook, and had been scouring the woods for some time now. Apparently, some of the transports that had managed to successfully escape from Knothole had made it to the smaller community and had alerted the Freedom Fighters there to the situation at hand. They'd quickly begun rounding up volunteers from their own forces and any trooper from Knothole who were not too exhausted to be of any use.

Some of the soldiers had heard the fight, and come dashing to their rescue. The prince just hoped that his sister had been as fortunate, and knowing that there was nothing more that he could do, allowed himself to drop his guard, and just relax for the first time since the attack.

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Goddess, Bunnie was getting tired of all this running and half of her just wanted to make like Gunter and get this blasted thing over with. One way or another, she was starting to get the distinct feeling that Norrack was going to get them, and they might as well go down fighting as opposed to running about like a heard of stampeded terrrapods. Unconsciously, she felt the weight of the telescopic glaive that was on her back, its edges ready tot be turned into a deadly vibro weapon at the flick of a switch. Thus far, guns and blasters had proven to be nearly useless against the ARC trooper, and she somehow knew that this thing was going to come down to a knife fight.

She set her jaw, and mentally prepared herself for any outcome or eventuality. She only hoped that Sally made it out of this in one piece, not simply because the ground squirrel was her best friend, but because she was carrying another life within her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, she abruptly thought to herself. They were supposed to be celebrating the eventual defeat of Robotnik, Sally was supposed to have had the chance to tell Sonic that he was going to become a father.

Motherhood, it was something she'd dreamed of going through one day, despite the problems it could present. She looked over to Antoine, silently marveling at the changes that had befallen the man she'd come to love over the years. She wondered what had happened to transform him, what had made the courage that had been hidden inside of him come forward so suddenly.

However, her thoughts were snatched away an instant later, as their foe once again descended upon them.

She saw movement out of the upper left area of her peripheral vision, and the next thing she knew Norrack suddenly landed about thirty feet in front of them. He wasted no time in charging their group, his weapons coming out in a flash. They were caught flatfooted and they scrambled to defend themselves. Sally tried to fire off the remaining shots from her slug thrower, but the cyborg was upon her too swiftly for her to do anything more than simply level the gun. An instant later, the telltale humming that they'd all come to dread filled the air, and with a single swipe the ARC trooper sliced the barrel off of the flechette shotgun. He then ducked down, and knocked Sally's feet out from underneath her with a sweep kick.

The princess went down hard, and Bunnie felt a mote of pure, absolute terror run through her as she watched what she believed would be her friend's dying moments.

There was a rage filled cry at the same time, and Antoine rushed forward, energy shield held forward and vibro blade cocked back. The cyborg looked up from his downed target, and back flipped out of the way just in time to avoid a vicious chop from the coyote's weapon. He landed on his feet, and after the royal guard closed the distance between them the two of them began to trade blows.

For a second, Bunnie was torn between herself. Part of her wanted to go and help the man she loved, knowing that alone he was completely outmatched by Norrack, and that the cyborg would likely cut him down in seconds despite his own skill with a blade. The other part demanded that she get Sally out of here. She didn't know which impulse to obey, which command to heed, and it tore at her.

Thankfully, it was a decision she would not have to make. The answer occurred to her a split second later, and she turned to face Derrick. The old Mandalorian had his rifle leveled, staring down its scope, trying to get a good shot at the cyborg. However, with Antoine in the way, he didn't dare shoot, knowing that he'd probably be just as likely to hit the royal guard, and he wasn't sure how well the other man's armor would hold up against a bolt from a charric rifle.

She rushed up to him and yanked his weapon down. This got his attention, and he looked over to her, wondering what she was on about.

"Get Sally out of here, me and Antoine will deal with that thing!" she yelled at him, before ripping her weapon off of her back and charging forward with the speed given to her by her robotic limbs.

Derrick hesitated for just a moment, before throwing his blaster rifle over his shoulder and dashing over to where Sally was, scooping the dazed girl into his arms and then sprinting off into the underbrush as quickly as he could.

With that taken care of, Bunnie focused completely on the battle as she reached the melee. She and Antoine would stand, fight, and fall together.

She let out a war cry, and with a mighty swing, brought her vibro weapon in from below, intending to try and split the ARC trooper in half with one blow. Norrack managed to stop the attack with his kaiburr sword, while his claws intercepted Antoine's blade.

For a couple of seconds, their weapons remained locked together like that, the three combatants simply looking at one another, trying to decide how best to proceed.

Then the stalemate was over, and the fierce battle resumed.

Antoine, keeping his shield out to protect himself, cocked his right hand back and threw out a strike at the ARC trooper's knees, hoping that he could catch him off guard with how low the strike was, and subsequently deprive him of a leg or two. Such a move would have ended the battle rather swiftly, but Norrack reacted in time to leap over the strike, while trying to drive his claws down into the royal guard's brain. The coyote was skilled, though, and managed to get his shield up in time to block the attack, though the power that the cyborg put behind his thrust almost drove him to his knees.

Bunnie spun her weapon, bringing to bear a smaller blade on the back end of it that was designed to act as both a cutting instrument and to help counterweight the rest of the glaive, making it easier to swing. She thrust it at him, forcing him to duck down or risk taking the thing straight through his visor. In a flash, the partially roboticized Mobian reversed the direction of her attack, trying to use the larger blade to split the killing machine's head wide open.

Norrack took a diving leap to get out of the way, lashing out with his energy blade as he passed by the rabbit's feet, no doubt hoping to remove one of his foes in the same manner that Antoine attempted to dispose of him. However, she jumped back out of the range of the sword, landing heavily and leaving her vulnerable for a moment or two.

However, the man she loved had her covered, rushing forward and bringing his vibro blade in from below. The ARC trooper barely managed to twist out of the way in time to avoid having his back split open. In response, once he was around and on his back, the cyborg brought his feet up to his chest and thrust them both out. Antoine, somewhat off balance from his attempt to bisect the commando, caught bought feet right in his chest. He was blown backwards off of the ground, the wind driven from his lungs. He hit he ground and skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, desperately trying to get oxygen back into his lungs, and trying not to let the spots and stars that danced before his eyes overwhelm him.

He was down, vulnerable, all but completely helpless. Yet, to the surprise of both the coyote and the rabbit, Norrack made no move to take him out, no attempt to kill him as he lay prone upon the ground. Indeed, he could have fired his plasma caster and sent the Freedom Fighter on a one way trip to the next coil of life, but he didn't. Bunnie put two and two together a couple of seconds later, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as she realized that he stakes of this battle was not life and death for her and Antoine, but rather, their freedom and souls.

Robotnik wanted them alive.

No, she couldn't let that happen, wouldn't let that fiendish devil of a man complete what he had started on her those years ago… and she would not allow Antoine to suffer that fate either, would not allow him to suffer that pain and agony.

Roaring, her eyes burning with rage and the thoughts of striking down this thing that had hunted them for so long, she lunged forward, sticking her glaive out in a powerful, two handed thrust that was intended to skewer the ARC trooper right through his heart. The cyborg ducked, however, and caught the weapon by its haft as it passed over his head. He then rolled backwards, throwing the weapon and its wielder towards a rather stout looking oak tree.

Bunnie spun around in mid flight so that her feet took the brunt of the impact, shattering part of the trunk and leaving imprints in the shape of her feet behind. She then pushed off, her weapon once again leading the way. As before, though, the ARC leapt out of the way, dodging the strike in its entirety, before countering with another blow aimed at her legs. However, she was able to plant the blade end of her glaive into the ground and use it like a pole vault to get out of the way of the claws. Still, it was rather close, as she thought she could feel the air ripple underneath her from where the cyborg had swung.

Twisting as she landed, she gave brief glance back over her shoulder at Antoine. Her boyfriend was still somewhat dazed, but he was struggling to back up to his feet, using his vibro blade as if it were a staff.

The sound of the ARC trooper charging back towards her forced her to redirect her attention away from the coyote and focus upon the hunter. The cyborg came in with a devastating series of slashes, thrusts, and chops that were designed to overwhelm her defenses and leave her open. A kaiburr sword strike came down, aimed to cut half of her face off, but she countered it with a well placed spin of her glaive. Then he brought in his claws, trying to split the staff like weapon in half. However, rather than having to chose between losing her face or losing her weapon, Bunnie decided that it was time for her to start falling back. She was faced with a superior opponent, but a skilled person could tell you that an inferior warrior could keep a skilled one at bay by simply given ground at the right time. This gave her more time to prepare for his next onslaught at would occasionally open up holes in the cyborg's own guard that she could exploit.

Thus, she kept retreating, keeping her glaive held out in front of her, all the while her mind was churning, trying to think of someway she could outmaneuver or outsmart her foe. Norrack was powerful, be he was not invincible.

Abruptly, the cyborg was forced to turn and deal with another threat: Antoine was back in the picture, whipping his blade back in forth in a frenzy of attacks that actually pushed the ARC trooper out of the path that he had been forcing Bunnie along. For a moment, the rabbit couldn't believe her eyes, as she watched the royal guard force Norrack back with the sheer power and ferocity of his attacks. His moves were wild, almost to the point of being berserker like, but he tread carefully, and did not cross that threshold which would have resulted in him throwing caution to the wind. That would doubtlessly led to a very quick incapacitation on the part of the adversary he was trying to bring down.

Rushing up, knowing that they would have to work together if they wanted to stand more than a snowball's chance in the Nine Hells against this monster, the rabbit came up beside the coyote, trying to outflank the commando and keep his attention split between the two of them.

Antoine caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, and nodded slightly as they began to work in tandem with each other. He would strike out high, attempting to relieve Norrack of his head, while his fellow Freedom Fighter would go in at either waist or chest height. However, to their surprise and dismay, though their coordination was remarkable and their tactics adept at keeping the ARC trooper from making any headway against them, they didn't appear to be doing much more than that.

However, there was one moment that she did take advantage of. Antoine shoulder charged the commando, using his shield and vibro blade to block the subsequent counter attacks that were supposed to take him out the fight. This pushed Norrack off balance, and while Bunnie didn't dare to strike out with her glaive for fear of hitting the man she loved, she did hit the cyborg in a slightly different manner. She planted her weapon into the ground again, and using it to get some leverage, jumped up and around, and planted her left foot into the side of his helmet.

There was a cracking and shattering noise as the ARC trooper went flying a good twenty feet before he hit the ground, rolling around and coming to a stop in a battered heap. However, the killing machine was as tough as the ferrosteel that plated his bones (which had probably kept his head from being crushed like a ripe squash from the force behind the kick) and he staggered to his feet, turning to face his opponents once again.

Her eyes widened for a second as she realized that her kick had shattered part of her adversary's visor. She could see nothing of his face, as the shadows of his helmet were too deep and dark for that. However, she could see his eyes, and that caused both her and Antoine to stop for a moment. The eyes burned a luminescent, almost neon green. But despite the fact that they appeared to be lit by some inner flame, at the same time they appeared to be… dead. They were lifeless, soulless, devoid of any of the emotion that she was used it seeing in the eyes of a living creature.

For a moment, she felt a sincere swell of sympathy and pity for whatever soul was trapped beneath that armor. However, prudence quickly overruled that bit of thought, as the commando came charging back into the fray, kaiburr sword and claws both locked back and ready to resume the battle.

They met him blow for blow, blade for blade.

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Mecha stood stock still, though he would most certainly have been fuming and panting if he had been a creature of flesh and blood. His mind still couldn't believe all that had unfolded, all that had transpired here.

He had failed… failed to complete his mission. Prince Elias had gotten away, along with half of the other high value targets that he was supposed to capture. The timing of the backup vehicles had been perfectly atrocious, and he wondered how things could have gone so wrong so quickly. One thing he did know for certain, though, was that his master was not going to be pleased by this turn of events.

For the first time since he'd been brought online, fear coursed through the android, and he discovered that it was not an emotion that he enjoyed. Thoughts of a hundred horrid fates that might await him went through his mind, each one more painful and destructive than the last. For some minutes, he was utterly consumed, uncertain, on the verge of panic.

Then that panic turned to rage then, white hot and all consuming as his thoughts drifted to one individual: Norrack. The cyborg was the reason for his falling. After all, if he'd done his part of the job right, then the android would never have been out here in the first place, and could have happily gone about his business of destroying fleeing rebel squadrons.

His metallic fangs became bared and his eyes turned the color of blood, and a mechanized scream came from the android. A second later, he powered up his afterburners and took off, heading for the direction that the other group was heading.

It was the only way he could hope to salvage this situation, and while he was at it. He would not be condemned or destroyed because of that inferior hybrid's screw up!

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Growling, the rabbit spun her glaive around, before sweeping it across and trying to remove Norrack's head yet again. As always, though, the cyborg ducked beneath the swing, before taking yet another swipe at her legs.

As she fell back, Antoine came in again, his vibro blade leading his charge, before he brought it down at an angle, doubtlessly hoping to burry it into the ARC's shoulder and disarm him in more ways than one. The commando dropped to the ground, however, and skillfully avoiding the chop, while sweeping Antoine's legs out from under him for a second time. The coyote landed headfirst on the ground, dazed and disoriented, leaving Bunnie on her own again.

Norrack apparently realized the threat that the two of them poised to him, and attempted to remove the royal guard from the battle then and there, reaching down and picking him up by the neck, before slamming him down into the ground again. It became evident from the groan that came from the soldier a moment later that he wouldn't be getting back up for at least a minute or two, which left him free to deal with his now enraged girlfriend.

However, the battle had worn on for some minutes now, and the two Freedom Fighters were beginning to tire. Norrack, on the other hand, seemed to still be going strong, and Bunnie couldn't help but wonder where he was getting his energy from. He wasn't even breathing hard, despite the effort they were forcing him to put up to defend himself. It was starting to unnerve her.

As always, though, when faced with an opponent that was like the rabbit, being fueled by hate, the ARC trooper fell back on pure defense, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

That was the problem with allowing an emotion such as that to control your movements and attacks. It gave you power, strength, and a focus, but eventually you'd wear yourself out, and as long as this battle had been dragging on, the cyborg held little doubt that moment was nearly upon them.

The next few seconds would prove him right. The blows began to become less frequent, and there was not as much power behind them. The rabbit was panting now, and he knew that now was the time to make his move.

He abruptly exploded into action, his kaiburr sword humming and leaving a blazing trail through the air, while his claws hissed alarmingly close to Bunnie's face. In less than two seconds, the rabbit was falling back, retreating rapidly before the killing machine. Desperately, realizing the edge that he was gaining, the guerilla soldier tried to find someway to break the ARC's momentum, to slow him down, buy herself some time for Antoine to get back up. She would receive no such godsend, however.

Faster, faster, Norrack moved, his arms nearly becoming blurs, the hum of his energy blade never ceasing, forcing her further and further back, away from her comrade, isolating her, setting her up for the final maneuvers.

Too late, she realized what had happened when she felt bark against the back of her battle armor. Her eyes went wide as she realized that she had been herded to this point, that the killing machine had steered her towards this obstacle. She had no more room left to retreat, and she believed any attempt to dive to the sides would be met with a very dire result.

For a couple of seconds, she frantically tried to hold her own there but her defenses were crumbling rapidly. In a move born of sheer, instinctive desperation, she leaped up into the air, hoping to come down behind the ARC trooper and get more room to maneuver…

…and she fell neatly into Norrack's trap.

The cyborg matched her leap, coming up from beneath her and moving off to one side. In a moment that was both an eternity and a second, Bunnie realized what was about to happen.

There was a flash of light and the dreaded hum of the commando's energy blade, combined with the bizarre noise it always when it connected with something solid.

An instant later, she could no longer feel her robotic limbs.

She hit the ground hard, skidded a couple of feet and rolled over. She could only stare in horror as the severed halves of her three roboticized limbs came to a stop a few feet away from her. For a brief second, she cursed her stupidity in falling for something that should have been obvious to her, but then her concerns for herself were overridden by something else.

A scream that would have driven fear into the heart of Chaos himself split the air, and Norrack looked up to see Antoine charging towards him, his face twisted into a visage of psychotic rage.

The coyote crossed the distance between them in a flash, and came in like a demon, doing all in his power to strike down this monster that had dared to hurt the woman that he loved.

For the initial moments of the conflict, it looked as though he might actually succeed. His vibro blade and shield worked together in perfect harmony, driving the ARC back and blocking his counters. At one point in time, Antoine even scored a hit, cutting a slight gash along the right leg of the cyborg, causing sparks and a bit of hydraulic fluid to fly. Unfortunately, the wound was only a minor one, and didn't appear to cause the soldier any form of discomfort whatsoever.

A couple of seconds after that though, the royal guard accidentally overextended himself for one brief second. It was only a minor mistake, something at a normal opponent would likely have never had time to take advantage of in such a fight, assuming that the raw and unadulterated anger that the coyote was giving off didn't cause them to lose control of their body functions.

But Norrack was no ordinary opponent…

The vibro claws came in and caught his sword arm almost at the shoulder. Armor, flesh and bone parted before the vibrating blades and the ARC's inhuman strength. A gasp, followed by a howl of pain, left the royal guard as he fell to his knees.

Unfortunately for him, his fall put him directly in the path of the spinning kaiburr sword that Norrack was using to knock his energy shield away. Realizing what was about to happen, as well as how displeased his master would be if a mission target were to die, Norrack yanked the weapon back, but he wasn't quite fast enough, and the left field of Antoine's vision went dark as the blade caught that region of his face.

He hit the ground, his teeth bared and gnashing together as he tried to keep any more cries of pain from leaving his body. Surprisingly, though, the wound to his eye did not hurt, it was his severed limb that burned as if it had just been placed in molten ferrosteel.

Balefully, he forced his good eye to look up at his opponent, determined to remain defiant to the end. To his surprise, however, he heard a voice from inside of the ARC's damaged helmet, a voice that all of them had come to dread hearing over the years.

"Well done, Norrack, well done! We'll have a hover craft out to pick them up shortly." came the voice of Julian Ivo Robotnik.

Antoine and Bunnie shared a pained, confused look with each other. Was there some sort of camera inside of the cyborg's helmet? Is that how he knew what was going on?

"Targets Sigma and Delta incapacitated," the commando replied in his strange, apparently mechanically altered voice. "Will now be proceeding after target Alpha."

"Wait, Norrack, just a minute," the overlord responded, causing the hunter to cock his head slightly. "The girl's limbs…" there was a moment of silence, and Bunnie felt a new meaning to the word fear enter her heart, "…destroy them. We'll make some different ones for her after we've retrieved her."

Her eyes went wide. The Roboticizer worked by altering the cells of the individual placed inside of it, altering them on an atomic level. To ever have a hope of undoing the process one needed to have the originals. If they were destroyed…

"No!" she cried out, tears beginning to form in her eyes as she saw Norrack walk of to them, retracting his claws and sheathing his blade, while bringing up his flamethrower.

She couldn't help herself; she began to break down, sobbing pitifully as she prepared to watch her only hope of ever returning to normal literally go up in flames.

Norrack looked back over to her, and for a brief second, he stared at her. She looked up at him, no longer caring that Julian might be watching, deriving some sort of sick, sadistic pleasure from this. It was a vain plead for mercy, but for a moment, she thought she saw a slight flicker in the ARC's eyes, saw them soften just for a second.

Suddenly, he grabbed his helmet, a cry of anguish coming from inside. For a moment, neither she nor Antoine knew what to make of it. Norrack continued to scream, shaking his head back and forth still gripping his helmet, throwing his head back and slumping to his knees, his whole body quivering with some unseen pain.

For almost thirty seconds, this continued, and that haunting, bizarre scream filled the woods, sending wildlife scurrying for a quieter perch.

Then he abruptly pivoted his face towards the ground, and he grew quiet, save for deep pants, the harsh, ragged breathing one associates with a man who had just won a twenty kilometer marathon.

Suddenly, he looked back up, and his eyes were dead and hard as the plating of his armor once again. With deliberate purpose, he got to his feet and leveled his arm once again.

Whatever hope had been in Bunnie's soul died in that next moment as she watched the concentrated, almost liquid like fire come blazing out the flamethrower. It hit her roboticized parts, rolling over them. More and more fire came, and she saw them begin to heat up, turning from steel gray to orange and finally to the white hot color of a star, before they began to melt. Circuitry popped and exploded under the intense heat that the ARC's flamethrower emitted, and slowly, as if to drag out her torment, they turned into a puddle of liquid metal.

His job finished, the ARC turned around, and took just enough time to break one of Antoine's legs to ensure that he wouldn't be able to escape, and then used a small puff of his flamethrower to cauterize the coyote's severed arm, as he didn't want him to bleed to death before he could be picked up.

He then stepped away from them, and reached into his utility belt, drawing out his nanite gun once again. Carefully holding it, he applied some of them to the wound that Antoine had given him, and over the next minute, watched as they restored it back to the way it had been before, albeit with a slight bit of discoloration where they became a ferrosteel patch. Testing it for a moment or two to make certain that everything was in working order, Norrack then took off in the direction that Derrick had taken Sally.

Bunnie simply cried, looking out at the pile of cooling slag that had once been a part of herself. It was more than she could bear, and she simply lay there, barely noticing that Antoine had crawled over and laid his remaining arm around her, doing his best to ignore his own pain.

After all, he thought to himself, his wounds were merely those of the flesh… hers were those that damaged the soul itself…

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Snivley felt sweat begin to bead down him once again as he watched the scene unfold. Norrack was attempting to resist the influence of the neural chip. Deep down, he had to marvel at the mental prowess that the cyborg had to possess… especially in light of what had been done to him during his creation to effectively bend him to the will of his uncle.

After about half a minute, the chip finally won out, and he began to obediently carry out his orders, torching the rabbits sundered body parts.

Julian had cackled like a madman throughout the ordeal, while Snivley had simply stared at the fear, pain, and the sheer sense of loss on the girl's face.

Once, a long time ago, back before the coup, that might have gotten to him; might have made him feel pity and remorse for his actions. Now, however, after all the years he had spent by Robotnik's side, all of the pain that he had endured, all that he had suffered through, he felt nothing. Nothing other than a grim pit of pleasure, as Bunnie had personally humiliated him on a number of occasions. She had actually at one point in time been a hairsbreadth away from killing him. Fortunately for him, an arriving prisoner transport had forced her to choose between either taking him out, or saving the lives of a few guerillas.

Ever the fool, she had chosen the latter, opting to save a few of her comrades instead of taking out Robotnik's number two man.

However, he continued to fret over the resistance that Julian's newest toy had shown to their methods of control. Given time, or perhaps a radical enough of an order, Norrack might well be able to break free, and the little Overlander had absolutely no desire to find out how much damage a unit such as him could wreak before finally being taken down.

He made a mental note to spend his next amount of free time figuring out a way to amp up the neural chip's command signals, or barring that, arranging for an 'accident' to take the cyborg out.

He sensed that the time of his ascension to power was close at hand, and he would not allow for a wildcard like Norrack to muck it up.

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She had long ago begun running again under her own power, though Derrick had practically had to use a threat of violence to keep her from going back and trying to help her friends out. He could certainly sympathize with her, as he did not enjoy leaving people behind to die, but she was royalty, and more importantly, the person who thousands looked up to in these dark times. She had led these people for years, and he would be damned before he allowed another of his leaders to get killed on his watch.

His ribs hurt like they'd never before, and his breath was becoming difficult to catch. Age and pain and the remnants of too many battlefield days were encroaching upon him, and he was beginning to suspect that the feeling he'd gotten right before Knothole had come under attack might have been right after all, that this might truly be his last battle.

Well, if that was the case, then he was not going to take it lying down.

Another fiery burst of pain shot through his side, causing him to gasp and stumble, and the aging Mandalorian decided that enough was enough. Like Gunter, he was tired of running from this thing, and his body not going to put up with much more running anyway. He stopped, his lungs aching, his battered body crying out for him to just wait for a moment. Sally stopped as well, wondering if something was wrong with him.

"Keep going," he told her, waving off the assistance she was doubtlessly about to see if she could provide. "This old shell's had about all it can take."

Sally opened her mouth to say that she wasn't about to leave yet another person to die, but Derrick apparently anticipated that, and though he wore a visor she could tell he was giving her a cold stare.

"Don't you understand it, Man… princess?" he said, almost slipping up and referring to her as a Mandalore. "You're the only one who _has _to survive this, the rest of us are just warm bodies in the long run."

"That's not true!" she snarled back at him, a fierce determination in her voice that he couldn't help but smile at. Goddess, he wished Brianna could have grown up to be someone like her. "You're not expendable!"

"We've all got to die sometime," he reminded her, his tone wry, stoic, and soothing at the same time. "I've been thinking that this was to be my last battle and I've not going to die by getting shot in the back, believe me." He paused for a moment, and a small laugh came from behind the helmet. "Besides, I'm wearing a jetpack, do you know what one of those caster rounds would do to me if Norrack got me there? I mean, it's armored and all, but that thing's pretty powerful and I really don't fancy literally digging my own grave."

Sally remained silent, but he could see behind her face behind her visor. This was getting to her, all this death, all this carnage. She'd never truly been prepared for something like this. Still, like a good trooper, she wasn't about to let it stop her. He briefly wondered how his people might have faired with her at the helm, so to speak. However, he quickly discarded that thought, and sighed, before looking her in the eye one more time.

"Can you do me one favor, though?" he asked, waiting for her to nod.

She did so, and he reached up and popped the seal on his helmet, taking it off and revealing his face to the world. Slowly, reverently, he handed it to her, getting a confused look in the process.

"Mandalorians burn their dead and keep the ashes somewhere," he explained, a crooked smile on his face. "But when we can't do that, a piece of the armor, preferably the helmet, will do quite nicely as a reminder. The body really doesn't mater in the long run, anyway. It's just a shell, after all." He turned his back to her, and then repeated one of the oldest phrases in Mandalorian culture. "It is not the armor or the weapons that make a Mandalorian, but what is beneath them. Good luck, princess."

With that, he began to walk away, his rifle held in his hands, his posture one of a proud and tall warrior.

She stood alone for a moment or two, wondering what she should do. She wanted to go help him, to stand together by someone, even a person that had been a complete stranger only a week or so ago. On the other hand, Derrick was probably about to sacrifice his life for her, as Bunnie and Antoine probably already had. Could she allow for their deaths to be in vain? What was she supposed to do?

After a minute or two, she turned to run, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes as she thought about all the death that was going on around her.

She clutched the old man's helmet between her hands as if her life depended upon it.

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The cyborg stared about the Great Forest, searching for the adversary that it knew was out there, but that had not yet revealed itself to him yet. With his visor broken, he was more vulnerable than ever, and he knew it. One round to the head he might just be able to survive, due to the plating of his bones, but he didn't want to find out how well it would stand up to continuous fire from something like an assault rifle or a submachine gun.

He drew his kaiburr sword and unsheathed his claws, bringing his plasma caster to bear as well. His foe was close… very close.

Again, he felt it before anything else. Before he saw it or before he heard anything that might have betrayed its presence he felt the danger. He dashed to one side, moving as quickly as he could.

Behind him, the woods seemed to light up as a massive fireball consumed their area. A thick, greasy mushroom cloud formed and a large oak tree fell to the ground, its limbs and leaves blazing brightly. Fortunately, there had been quite a bit of rain, recently, and it seemed unlikely that the fire would spread too far.

However, the ARC trooper's attention was focused on trying to figure out where in the name of his master that shot had come from. He stared up and around, his eyes gazing about, trying to discern where this enemy was. It was a crafty person, he knew that, and he knew that he'd have to figure out where he was quickly to have any hope of coming out on top given the battered state of both his armor and his equipment.

It was then that another bizarre thing happened. He had a strange impulse to close his eyes. He wanted to resist at first, as it went against all practical battlefield knowledge. Nonetheless, the impulse won out in the end, and he did so. What happened next was something he knew he could definitely not chalk up as some bizarre neural lace/adrenaline combination.

He could see, and yet he could not. It was not a sight in the traditional sense… actually… sense was probably more the word for it. He could feel the life around him, feel the various pulses and eddies as the primal life in the forest struggled for survival. There was a colony of ants that was nearby, sending its forces out on their way to either gather supplies, or to perhaps make war upon another colony. Distantly, he thought he could sense one of the smaller predatory creatures, though it was apparently taking great pains to simply stay out of his way.

He felt his foe at the same time he felt that danger sense creeping up again, and he feinted to the right, before dashing forward.

Another explosion resounded throughout the forest as he stared up into a tree top, where another rocket came flying down towards him. He dashed out of the way again, now realizing that his opponent was the Mandalorian. He saw him now, hiding in amongst a thick bough of pine needles, almost completely invisible, a very clever move.

He then aimed his plasma caster upwards, and charged it up, before firing off an overcharge shot. Moments before it would have connected, Derrick leaped out of his cover, and he felt the heat backwash as it turned into a blazing mass of plant life. His jetpack had a backup activator on the right gauntlet of his armor in the event that the main one in the helmet was damaged or something like that and he quickly pressed it, lest he wind up pancaking on the ground.

He decelerated just in time to land on the ground and stare at his adversary, who leveled the caster once more, the targeting lasers centering themselves on his forehead. He tensed, preparing to dive out of the way, when something strange happened. He heard a muttered conversation from within the ARC trooper's helmet, and then Norrack said something about acknowledging a command, and the caster deactivated.

This was different, and it made the old artic fox very uneasy. Still, the ARC was about attack him, one was or the other, and he had to think of a way in which to deal with this threat, or to at least hold it off for the longest possible period of time.

Derrick decided that it was perhaps best to save his last bust rocket for an emergency, as they obviously were not going to hit their target. He also remembered how easily the killing machine was able to deflect blaster bolts, and with him currently missing his helmet, shooting at it with wild abandon would probably not be a very good idea either. The idea of taking his pistol to this thing was simply laughable, so that left him with a single option.

Reaching down to his side, he grasped his zhaboka, his fingers slinging along the various ridged and groves of the grip, details he had known ever since had crafted it himself, more than thirty five years ago.

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the weapon out to its full length, spun it twice over his head, and then held it at a ready position, his eyes silently telling the cyborg across from him to take his best shot.

Norrack was only too happy to oblige.

In a flash, he was upon the Death Watchman, both of his weapons out and hammering upon the double bladed weapon. Derrick blocked both of the strikes, ducking down and then spinning the weapon vertically as he tried to slice into the damaged portions of Norrack's battle armor. The ARC trooper parried the blows however, before counting with a vicious kick aimed at the old warrior's unprotected face. The Mandalorian rolled backwards however, flipping completely over before pushing off of the ground and getting himself back up into a standing position. It had hurt quite a bit to do that with his pack on, but he probably wasn't going to live through this, so what did it mater?

The ARC trooper was there to meet him as he landed, launching a vicious series of sword and claw attacks at the black armored warrior, before coming up with another kick, this one a spinning roundhouse that was aimed at the ribs he knew he'd damaged earlier. Derrick wasn't about to fall for that trick again, though, and jumped away again, rolling once more.

He came up spinning, the alloyed blades of his zhaboka actually catching a part of Norrack's armguard. It sliced in with relative ease, though it did not get all the way through before the ARC backed out of the way.

Now that managed to confuse the cyborg, as he knew that the Mandalorian was not carrying a vibro weapon. It was something he'd have to be careful of, and he made a not to have the weapon examined when it got back to headquarters.

He let Derrick come to him this time, allowing the old warrior to get in a few close shaves and hoping that he would wear himself out the way that Bunnie and Antoine had. Indeed, all logic seemed to indicate that this battle would be over quickly, as his foe was old, injured, and about out of ordinance.

However, after several minutes of allowing the Mandalorian the apparent offensive, the man was not slowing, and it had the commando confused. Where did this warrior's energy reserves keep coming from, he had to wonder as he turned aside a thrust that was aimed for his heart.

Derrick wondered himself how he found the endurance to keep on going. He seemed to be fighting beyond pain or fear, as if he was sustaining himself on pure adrenaline. He had to admit to himself, he hadn't felt like this in a long time, and though he was fighting for his life, it brought back memories of the older days, when he had been among his friends and comrades.

He also remembered that he had a leader out there that he had to protect and defend. He drew strength from that knowledge as well, that he was doing his job, and that he was going to perform to the best of his ability.

He reached back and brought his weapon across in a mighty sweep, actually jumping up and completing a full circuit twist, giving his adversary three attacks to defeat. Had he moved any slower, Norrack might have been able to skewer his jetpack with his kaiburr sword, but inwardly the old artic fox knew that at this range, with his equipment as battered as it was, such a move was as likely to kill his cybernetic foe as likely as it was to kill him.

He brought his own foot up after that, slamming his armored boot into the commando's abdomen. The ARC trooper grunted but did not falter, instead bringing both of his weapons down from above. Derrick brought his dual bladed sword up to block them, and he succeeded in doing so. However, he knew he had to think of a way out of this quickly, as his zhaboka would only hold up for so long against Norrack's energy blade.

He could also feel his foe's superior strength beginning to push him down. Thinking quickly, he broke the blade lock while swinging his weapon forward and to the left, aiming for the thin unarmored region of the ARC trooper's armor. The cyborg apparently anticipated this move, though, as he vaulted over the black armored warrior's head. The Mandalorian quickly rolled forward, as he believed such a move was likely a precursor to some form of decapitation.

To his surprise, however, he was instead met with a foot to the rear of his jetpack. A metallic gong echoed through the forest, and the old warrior went sailing forward, skidding along the dirt and nearly cutting himself on his own weapon.

He was back up faster than one would expect from a man of his age. His face was slightly scrapped up on one side, but defiance shone clearly in his amber eyes. He spun his dual edged weapon over his head a couple of times, before once again setting himself, trying to catch his breath and waiting to see what his enemy's next move would be.

Norrack, not wishing to give his opponent the chance to catch a second wind, rushed in, his blade cutting strange geometrical patterns in the air as he attempted to confuse Derrick on which way his attack would actually come from. The answer to that would be an almost vertical strike from below, while he thrust his claws forward in an attempt to bury them into the Death Watchman's shoulder. The old warrior blocked the first one, and then ducked out of the way of the second. Derrick almost immediately countered by bringing his zhaboka across and attempting a decapitation of his own. Norrack skillfully flipped out of the way however, leaving about ten feet of space separating the two combatants.

The Mandalorian charged, thrusting his weapon forward as if it were a spear. However, the ARC trooper merely twisted to the side, ducked down beneath it, and then tried to sweep Derrick's feet out from under him as he had with Bunnie earlier.

He saw it coming, and brought both feet up off of the ground in an attempt to avoid the trip. As with Bunnie, though, he realized far too late that he had stepped right into a trap.

Almost faster than he could blink, Derrick watched the ARC shift his weight to his other foot, and perform some sort of bizarre, crouching jump. This brought his other foot squarely into the Mandalorian's already battered ribs. Under the force of this impact, they shattered, and pain exploded through the old man. He was thrown to the side, landing heavily, gasping like a fish out of water.

Still, somehow, he managed to fight down the pain long enough to stand. However, that was about as far as he got, before the cyborg was upon him, ripping his dual bladed sword away. The Death Watchman tried to punch his foe, and actually managed to get his thek'la dagger out. Unfortunately, all he got for his trouble was a cracked wrist, as Norrack grabbed him and then applied pressure that seemed beyond anything a Mobian could have mustered. He then twisted, and put Derrick down on his back.

In another lightning quick movement, the commando was down next to him, his left fist raised above his head. He brought it down on the artic fox's lower left leg, utterly shattering the two bones, and causing a barely stifled gasp of pain to come from his now helpless prey. He wasn't quite done though, and he then brought the fist back up, before slamming down on the other leg, this time on the upper portion. This time, the blow hit with such force that it not only broke Derrick's femur, it caused a compound fracture, driving the bone out through the flesh and fur.

Apparently satisfied that his opponent wasn't going anywhere, Norrack took the time to look at him.

Derrick, the pain showing in his eyes, stared back in a textbook definition of defiance. Like the others though, he was quite surprised to hear a voice come from that helmet that was definitely not the ARC trooper's.

"Yes," Robotnik said, "I thought that armor looked familiar. You're that Death Watchman that was paraded in front of us just after Malachor."

"Kill me if you're going to," the old warrior snarled, glaring up at the cyborg, and at the overlord that he knew was somehow watching this whole thing, "but don't waste my time, coward!"

"Kill you?" the Overlander said, amusement in his tone, "oh no, old man, I'm not going to kill you. No, why should I waste such a fine specimen of a long gone people?" He chuckled in a sinister manner after that. "I know much about how your people were, Watchman, and I think it would be far more enjoyable to have you and the other two slaving away in one of my factories."

"Dishonorable bastard!" he roared, realizing he was destined for something that was truly hell on Mobius.

"Continue with your mission, Norrack," the overlord stated in a causal manner, as if he was discussing the weather.

The cyborg began to walk away, Derrick glaring back at him the whole while. It was only after a few seconds that the artic fox remembered he had one rocket left. Forcing himself to ignore the pain that coursed throughout it his body, he pivoted about as best he could until he could get his arm pointed at his foe. He steadied his aim, and then pressed the button.

The buster rocket fired, streaking through the air and leaving a contrail behind it. However, fate was not with him that day, apparently, as before it even came close to hitting its target, Norrack managed to leap aside, going into a roll and coming back up to where he was facing his foe. The ARC trooper waited for a moment, as if anticipating another such attack. However, after about thirty or so seconds, when Derrick seemed to slump down into the dirt, and a soft sob came from him, the commando deduced that no other attack was forthcoming, and turned around to leave.

For once, the Death Watchman was at a loss. He knew what fate was awaiting him, now that he had lost, and he knew that he would not be able to survive such a fate. He only hoped that he had bought Sally enough time to get away. He reached for his charric, painfully pulling it off of his back, and then placing it against the side of his head.

But, before he pulled the trigger, something managed to get through his pain hazed mind: Robotnik had mentioned that there had been two others. In a moment of realization, he understood he must have been referring to Bunnie and Antoine.

Mandalorians could be incredibly loyal to those they considered to be brothers or sisters, and those two had definitely met those standards. He couldn't leave them to such a fate, he wouldn't.

He awkwardly slung his rifle back over his shoulder, before painfully starting to crawl back in the direction that he had come from. All the while, he was making a quick calculation in his head. He had used up one of his cells back at the cul-de-sac, leaving him with two full power packs, a hundred and sixty shots. That would hopefully be enough for him to deal with any encroaching Swat Bots that tried to claim them, provided that he reached them in time.

And if it didn't, well, he'd save his last three shots. One for Bunnie, one for Antoine, and the final round for himself…

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Many have said this before, many shall probably say this again, and I shall confirm it for you: yes, I am an evil little (insert expletive of your choice here). That said, despite my mangling of a good many characters, my own and otherwise, I sincerely hoped that you found this chapter to your liking.

Not much left now, just two more and an epilogue. Of course, after that comes the sequel… though I have yet to think of a good name for it…

At any rate, the usual here, any form of feedback is most welcomed, constructive criticism, flames, ideas, potential plot devices you'd like to see, etc.

Thank you all, and I hope you have a great day.


	20. Who Didn't See This Coming?

Hello, everyone, and I hope you'll pardon me if there are any mistakes in this AN, as I am currently approaching the 42 hour mark of when I last got some sleep. Had a lot of homework last night and it turned into one of those miserable night where you spend three and a half hours tossing back and forth in bed cuase you can't find your brain's blood 'off switch', suddenly realize its 3:30 in the morning, you have a class that requires you to be out the room of your dorm by 7, and that you alarm clock has abruptly decided that it wants to retire. Thus, I came to the conclusion of 'Screw it, I'm not going to oversleep and miss a class.' I am now sustaining myself on a massive caffeine overload that has kept me going throughout the day, but I fear its reserves are waning… as my eyes are already starting to feel like lead weights.

As usual, though, I want to thank everyone here who has read this story, and especially those of you who left me feedback, as that's the best way for me to improve. I hope that this can continue to be a pleasure for you, and let me know if there's anything you'd like to see happen.

Lawyers- … Must I keep repeating this blasted thing over and over again? I mean, come on, do they really think that I intend to make money from all of this? Though seeing some of the low quality drivel that has come out of Sega and company in the past, it might explain why they fear us fanfiction authors so much…

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Who Didn't See This Coming?

Sally clutched the helmet in one hand, while keeping her DC-19 drawn in the other. Thoughts tumbled and churned within her, as her analytical mind attempted to figure out what she should do from here. She knew that she'd never make it to Blue Brook now, the distance was just too great, Norrack would find her before she could even get close to it.

The only logical decision then was to find someplace to try and make yet another stand against the ARC trooper. But where and how was what she could not figure out, and she knew that her life would probably depend on choosing a favorable area. Complicating this was the fact that she was alone, didn't have eyes in the back of her head, and that her weaponry was limited to a Deece with a single power clip, and her sword. Nicole was there as well, but she wasn't truly certain how useful the computer could be here in this situation. She had no prior dealings with Norrack, and Sally doubted it would have helped much anyway, as the cyborg had shown time and again that it could adapt to changing battlefield conditions.

Victory seemed to be impossible by all reasoning. Norrack was stronger than her, faster, and armed with better weaponry. Furthermore, he had been psychologically condition and controlled to be the perfect sociopathic killing machine, a creature with no regrets, no conscience, and no free will save for what enabled him to accomplish his mission. He was also very, very relentless in his attacks, pulling back only when it suited him best for the most part.

Thus, she was rapidly approaching the conclusion that just about everyone else had reached on this disastrous little journey: that she would soon be dead and that there was very little she could do about that. Try as she might, the ground squirrel was unable to stop a little bit of despair from working its way into her heart at the thought of death. She'd never get to see her world restored, her people freed from their enslavement.

Her child…

Despair became a righteous fury and her eyes hardened, her famous resolve coming forth again. The man she had loved was dead, a good number of her friends were likely either dead or dying, her son had been grievously wounded, and her home and sanctuary had been destroyed. But, by all that she held dear on what was left of this ravaged and abused planet, she would not let the innocent life that was growing inside of her be snuffed out before it even got a chance!

Adrenaline began to surge, and she could feel the energy working its way back into her, rejuvenating her body and her weary soul. On one level, it was partially a survival instinct, the tendency of any creature to avoid death, and naturally to become all the more ferocious as they approached that threshold. The other part was one again the material side of her, the mother fighting to defend the right for her offspring to live.

When Norrack came for her, she vowed she would give him a fight that he would not soon forget.

After a few more minutes, she found a clearing, and there she paused, looking around it.

It was a fairly large clearing, about fifty or so feet across, and with the branches of the trees being so far up that she doubted the ARC trooper would be able to come through them to get to her. After all, if all the stains on his armor had been any indication, then Norrack's layer of protective gel was pretty much lying in small drops and puddles all over the Great Forest. She also had reason to believe that his active camo and his shields were both offline.

If she got lucky, she just might be able to make it out of this.

Setting down Derrick's helmet, she took a moment to try and rest up, to prepare herself mentally and physically for the challenge that was about to come her way. In her heart, the princess knew that this would likely be the greatest challenge, at least on an individual level, that she would ever face. She could not fail, not after all that had been lost and sacrificed. Failure would mean that the deaths of her friends and comrades had been for nothing, and she would not let them down.

Her thoughts drifted to Sonic, and she looked up to the sky, wondering if he was staring down at her. She wondered what he would have thought, learning that he was going to be a father, she'd always felt he'd make a good one. She guessed that she would never know, but she felt that he would be there with her in spirit, if not in reality.

She almost felt him around her now, and she drew strength from that as well.

She closed her azure eyes, and a small smile came over her face, as she thought of all the times they had shared together growing up, both in Knothole and their carefree days before the coup. She remembered how he'd always managed to cheer her up, even when she felt as if the weight of the world was about to collapse upon her shoulders. She remembered the night they had spent together, how it had felt to be wrapped in his arms. She had felt safe then, like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.

For his sake, she would fight as well.

She wasn't certain what it was at first that alerted her that she was not alone, but somehow she suddenly knew that she was being watched. She snapped her rifle up, holding it with one hand, while reaching back and drawing her ancestral blade as well.

"Alert as always, princess," came a distorted, mechanized voice, though not quite the one she'd been expecting.

Almost dead ahead of her, walking out of the woods, was Mecha. For some reason, maybe it was the fact that she'd been thinking about Sonic and was suddenly greeted by his demonic copy, her anger boiled to heights it had never reached before, a visible surge of raw hatred that would have had any living creature within ten feet of her backing away and looking for the nearest exit.

However, the android was not a living creature, and as such continued to advance, that cocksure smile, a twisted and bastardized version of the one she'd come to love from his organic brother, plastered on his face. His eyes lit up, and he stopped a few feet away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seems like it was about time something started going my way," he remarked offhandedly, his smirk growing even wider. "The boss has been very eager to meet with you, princess, and is most upset by the fact that you keep turning down his invitations."

Sally was confused, but she made it a point to keep her weapon trained on the mechanized hedgehog. Robotnik wanted her alive? Dread filled her again for a moment, and she decided that given the choice, she'd rather have date with the Grim Reaper. However, she wasn't about to reveal that to Mecha, and opted for defiance.

"Been having problems finding ways to entertain yourself, you miserable bucket of bolts?" she inquired, her voice full of contempt and disdain.

"Hardly," Mecha retorted, "but because that miserable excuse for a killing machine that's been tailing you screwed up, I had to drop what I was doing and go chase after the rest of your little gang. And then they got away…" he trailed off, his eyes getting a dangerous glow to them.

"Elias outsmarted you then?" the ground squirrel replied with a raised eyebrow. "Why does that not surprise me? You never really were that bright, Mecha."

The android snarled, balling up his fists. "Hardly outsmarted, princess, by some fluke, more of your pals showed up and I found myself outgunned!" he actually began to tremble with anger again, and that gave Sally some encouragement.

Mecha had a history of doing stupid things when he was angry. Thus, the most logical approach was to goad him on some more.

"Oh, the poor little android couldn't handle himself?" She remarked, smirking. "That doesn't surprise me, either. You're all brag and smoke, Mecha, you can't handle it when things get rough. That's why you could never catch Sonic, and that's why you're still number two apparently."

He caught the point of the last barb, and it sent him over the edge. With roar, he extended his claws and charged at her. She feinted left as he approached and then dove to the right, causing him to shoot right by her. As he did, she brought her Deece up and opened fire on him with a fully automatic burst. The majority of the blue tinted plasma bolts merely skipped off of his armor, but a couple of the did manage to penetrate the ferrosteel plates, causing a growl to come from the mechanized hedgehog as he whirled back around to face her.

Screaming in rage, he came at her once again, and if it had been possible, he would have been foaming at the mouth.

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He heard the commotion, and dashed towards its source. He wondered what it could have been, as to his knowledge he was the only unit operating around here. Thus, he opted to forgo caution in favor of speed, knowing that if anything were to befall the princess, that Robotnik would not be happy. Above all of the others, he wanted her alive so he could show her off like a trophy to the remaining enemy forces and hopefully break their will to continue fighting.

He came upon the clearing suddenly, and was rather surprised to find Mecha and the princess duking it out with each other. The princess was holding her own against the machine, but he was worried by how recklessly the robotic hedgehog was swinging at her. Those blows appeared as if they were attempting to kill, not disable or incapacitate. He decided then that it was probably in his best interest to intervene, and he came running out over his cover.

His sudden movement apparently startled both combatants who both twisted and fired at him. He was able to dodge out of the way of the princess' DC-19 bolts, but one of Mecha's shots came sailing right into his battered helmet. It missed his face, thankfully, but it hit the camera that he had inside, turning it to slag. It also damaged his 14omm.. equipment, cutting him off from Robotropolis and any further amendments to his master or from making status reports.

This made Norrack quite upset. He had expected retaliatory fire from the princess, but Mecha was on his side, and not confirming his target before shooting was just plain sloppy.

They both paused, staring at him, as he narrowed his eyes and glared at the android.

"Watch your aim," the ARC trooper said. "And be careful, she's supposed to be taken alive."

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" Mecha snarled, turning and shaking his vibro claws at him.

There was something in both the machine's voice and his eyes that made the cyborg think something was not quite right, and it suddenly occurred to him as to why in the world the android would be here when he had been assigned to go after the other group.

"What of the other party?" he inquired, cocking his head to one side.

"They managed to get away," Mecha growled, his eyes beginning to glow even brighter if possible.

"The master will not be pleased," Norrack stated, his voice calm and emotionless, as if he were attempting to figure out an equation, rather than contemplating the inevitable explosion of wrath that would be coming at the both of them.

"No, he ain't," the android concurred, that strange light still in his photoceptors, "and I wouldn't be in the mess if you hadn't screwed up!"

The cyborg seemed confused by this, but he said nothing. How was it his fault that the group had split up? It was a sound and logical military decision on the part of the two leaders. When trying to escape a numerically inferior enemy, sometimes it was better to give them multiple targets to pursue, forcing them to split their own strength.

Mecha turned to face him, completely ignoring the fact that Sally was right behind him with a plasma rifle that still had half of a clip in it. Slowly he walked towards Norrack, his claws still out.

"You got me into this mess!" he shouted again, pointing an accusing finger at the ARC trooper. "You're the reason they got away in the first place! If I'd been sent to the deal with them, this never would have been an issue!"

"The master does not share your point of view," Norrack responded, before shaking his head yet again. "This argument is pointless. Our primary target is right here, and now we have to bring her back in one piece." He placed a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

"No, we're not going to bring her back," Mecha replied shaking his head slowly. "_I'll _do that myself. You see, Norrack, I have had quite enough of playing second fiddle to you, and I think it's time I did something about it!"

The cyborg was again startled by this, but a realization quickly dawned on him. Mecha had just taken out his communications with that shot earlier. The odds of that kind of precision shot happening on accident were rather long, however, with his processors and targeting protocols, it was possible that he might have _deliberately _attempted to cut him off from command. Either that, or perhaps the shot was intended to kill him outright, and the android might have claimed that he was startled by the cyborg's sudden appearance and attempt to chalk it up to a good old fashion friendly fire screw up.

That was about as far as his reasoning got before the android charged him. He leaped backwards, flipping over and drawing his kaiburr sword, igniting it as he hit the ground and going into a defensive series of parries as Mecha came at him like an enraged animal.

Sally, meanwhile, was more than a little shocked by this sudden turn of events. However, to say that she was complaining would not have been true. She took the opportunity to make herself scarce, fleeing back into the woods. With any bit of luck, perhaps the two allies turned enemies would take each other out.

Norrack noticed her departure, and grumbled inwardly. However, he had far more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, like trying to figure out how to take out Mecha.

The android had officially jeopardized his mission, and for all effective purposes, turned traitor upon him and his master. Thus, he was now a maverick unit, and to be dealt with accordingly.

Something strange happened then. Deep within his subconscious mind, Norrack felt something, almost like another presence. It seemed familiar, and he seemed to be able to recall this entity, or whatever it was, faintly surfacing whenever he had hesitated before, such as when he'd been about to kill Tails or destroy Bunnie's robotic limbs. This time, though, it was different. It didn't try to hold him back. On the contrary, it seemed to merge with him, and he felt a rush of emotion and adrenaline, and something that seemed to be a combination of eagerness and joy at the thought of destroying his former ally. It confused him, it really did. However, he was not about to question any form of assistance. He'd seen Mecha fight, and knew that the android would be a deadly adversary, especially in light of his own battered and damaged condition.

The machine abruptly flipped over his head, and he dove to the side, barely avoiding a strike from a vibro claw. Leaping up and spinning around, he brought up his plasma caster and began to unleash its submachine gun mode upon the mechanized hedgehog. The android tapped into his speed capabilities, though, and quickly proved to be rather adept at dodging the plasma bolts.

Mecha retaliated by launching a barrage from his own onboard weapons, forcing the commando the jump and dive about, as he didn't trust his armor to hold up under that kind of firepower.

Cackling was his only warning as the killing machine came rushing in at him claws extended and a wicked grin upon his face. Norrack was still trying to get back up after his last dive, and found that he only had time to swipe his energy blade at the android in hopes of stopping him. Mecha simply rolled out of the way coming up behind him. The ARC trooper tried to leap forward, and he heard the screeching of shredded metal as the vibro claws connected.

What was left of his shattered HUD warned him that his plasma caster was no longer operational, and as he twisted around and looked back, Norrack could see that his foe's attack had ripped about half of the caster off of his back. He frowned behind his helmet as he waited for his adversary to make the next move. That effectively removed his ranged weapon from the equation. Normally, that would not have bothered him so much, as he knew that he was probably more than a match for the android in melee combat. However, getting close enough to do any form of damage that way would be tricky, as Mecha was much faster than he was.

He'd simply have to wait for his enemy to try something, and then adapt accordingly.

He didn't have to wait long for the killing machine's impatience to start round two. The android charged him, nearly recklessly so, and opened up with a rapid series of thrusts that were apparently supposed to put him off balance. Indeed, it is likely that if it were not for his enhanced reflexes, that Norrack might have found this battle to be a rather short one, and not one that would have ended in his favor either.

An opening presented itself to the commando as his enemy and he locked their weapons together, their arms spread wide. For some moment's neither moved, as the contest of strength proved to be an even one. However, Mecha, as thoroughly enraged as he was, made the mistake of leaning in a little closer to his opponent and sneering. The answer that he got was a zersium plated boot to his mouth. This cost him the offensive, and he found himself having to slowly back away from Norrack as the ARC trooper matched his earlier ferocity.

However, Mecha was far more alert than Bunnie had been, and when Norrack started steering him towards a large tree, the android decided that he was not going to have any part of it. He back flipped out of the way of a kaiburr sword slash, and then leapt up a few feet off of the ground. He then balled up, hit the ground, and blasted towards the cyborg.

Norrack dove to the side, trying desperately to get out of the way of his blitzkrieging foe, but he was only partially successful. Some of the android's metallic spines caught his right arm, shredding a bit of the armor, and rendering his flamethrower inoperable.

The cyborg was back up on his feet in a flash, just in time to watch his adversary turn around and come shooting back towards him again. Once more he was forced to dive out of the way, and yet again he only barely made it. However, a plan was forming in his mind, one as risky as it was bold. He knew that he had to try it, though; otherwise he was going to lose, as Mecha was looking like he could keep this sort of thing up all day if he had to.

As the robotic hedgehog came in for the third attack, he tensed, and then leaped over him, spinning about in a horizontal manner, his arm and energy blade extended. He only caught a glancing strike, but that proved to be sufficient.

Mecha howled and exited the ball form that he'd been in, looking back at him with a glare that would have blasted through battle plate.

Norrack was tempted to smirk, as somehow, that glare didn't seem as threatening as it had once been. This was probably due to the face that about three quarters of the android's spines were now lying on the forest floor, their ends glowing orange where the sword had severed them.

In response to the glare, though, Norrack simply readied himself, flipping the kaiburr sword around for a bit. As before, he didn't have to wait very long for Mecha to try again. With his spines removed, though, the android speed advantage had been reduced to simply having to try and get around his foe and strike from behind. This was something the commando was not about to let happen, and indeed, every attempt that Mecha made resulted in his almost losing another body part.

The machine's rage was growing stronger and more powerful by the minute, as his continued efforts to destroy this miserable half breed were thwarted. Screaming, he brought his left hand up from below, and his right one down from above, hoping to catch the ARC trooper in a scissor styled attack that would result in him getting split open from stem to sternum. Norrack simply pivoted out of the way, and suddenly the android found himself having to lean backwards to avoid getting his head sliced off.

He ducked down low, and attempted a sweeping kick, hoping to knock the cyborg prone to the ground and finish him off then and there. However, as many times as Norrack had done that attack on himself, he was not about to fall for it, and instead flipped up into the air, taking the time to try and remove Mecha's leg in the process.

The strike from the energy blade fell short however, though it was certainly close enough to make the android think twice about attempting to repeat such a maneuver. The battle resumed in earnest as Norrack landed, the two of them exchanging blows left and right, neither one able to hold the offensive for long.

Mecha brought the vibro claws on his right hand in, trying to stab them into the ARC trooper's stomach and gut him. However, the cyborg twisted out of the way of the attack, causing the android to overextend himself. As soon and the mechanized hedgehog realized his error, he attempted to correct himself, yanking his arm back. However, part of the commando's kaiburr sword was able to score a glancing blow against the arm. The damage was minimal, limited mostly to the surface armor and a few, non critical systems that lay underneath it, but the proverbial first blood went to the cyborg.

This didn't stop them, however, and they continued their deadly dance all over the clearing, both of them battling to determine which one of them was the superior unit.

After a few more minutes, Mecha caught up to the cyborg, so to speak, moving in low and slashing through a fairly good portion of the cyborg's thigh armor, before moving up and cutting his utility belt in half. The mechanized hedgehog spared a brief looked down, and saw that he'd managed to shear open part of his enemy's leg as well, exposing circuitry and servos, and this brought a renewed smirk to his face.

They locked their weapons up again, each of them close enough to spit in the other's face. However, while this was prevented by the fact that Mecha was an android and Norrack's HUD visor still covered that region of his visage, they were able to trade verbal insults.

"I'm been looking forward to this for a long time," the android said with a smirk, "you have no idea how good it's going to feel to finally put you in your place."

Norrack however, remained silent. However, this was not to say that he had no form of rebuttal, as Mecha observed something a few seconds later that truly unnerved him.

The green eyes of the cyborg went from being dead and soulless to burning like his own. For a moment, he was confused, and didn't understand what was going on. Too late, he realized that he had somehow angered the cyborg. It was something new to him, he'd never really seen much of Norrack's face ever since his creation, and those times it had always been neutral, stoic. The creature that was suddenly standing in front of him was something else… something… more.

For a single fraction of a second, he thought he saw those eyes flash, becoming a pure, milky white, and with a grunt, the commando knocked him backwards. He stumbled for a moment, but managed to recover just in time to find himself having to intercept a downward energy blade slash and a simultaneous thrust from Norrack's vibro claw. He defeated those attacks, but found two more coming in right after that, two stabs at his chest. As before, he managed to get clear of the strikes, but then he found himself having to jump backwards to avoid a round house aimed at his head.

On and on the attacks came, as the cyborg fought like he was an army. Mecha began to have to struggle to keep up with them, and he became rather worried. Norrack was a biological, and thus would get tired. However, the alterations that had been done to his body meant that it was going to be quite a while before that happened.

Still he had enough confidence in his own innate superiority as a pure machine to believe that he would still achieve victory, albeit a victory that was slightly more difficult than he had originally calculated.

The next few seconds seemed to prove him right, as Norrack spread his arms wide to perform a pair of powerful slashes, and left his chest wide open at the same time. Dipping his shoulder to one side, he brought his right vibro claws in from below, intending to rip the ARC's chest open, while his left one's parried the kaiburr sword and stopped his foe from making any form of last minute attempt to take him down with him.

However, in a move that was almost too fast for even his photoceptors to see, Norrack twisted. The claws still connected, and ripped through enough of the armor to draw blood, but the blow was only a mild one over all, rather than a battle ending one. The cyborg's claws punched into his arm then, tearing a long pair of gashes in it and taking out the primary motivator, causing it to fall limply to his side. At the same time, the ARC trooper suddenly threw his energy blade up into the air, and Mecha found that his claws went sailing underneath it, hitting nothing but air.

As his hand came in underneath the strike, Norrack reached up and grabbed the blade, and with a deft spin severed the android's arm just above the elbow. His foe's photoceptors went wide with disbelief over this abrupt change in events, as he realized the feint that he'd foolishly fallen for, the bait that he'd just taken hook, line, and sinker.

The mechanized hedgehog barely had time to realize the implications of the unexpected turnabout when he heard the blade hum again, and he suddenly lost his connection with everything below his waist. His upper torso hit the ground with a thud, and as he looked about, for the first time, he began to understand what so many biologicals must have felt at his hands.

The fear that he had felt before, the dread at the thought of Julian's wrath was nothing compared to this. He knew now the fear of Death, and that terror manifested itself as he frantically tried to think of a way to get out of this. All the while, he was still unable to believe what had happened. How could it be? He was superior to this glorified meat bag! He was the more advanced unit, literally built to be better to anything else! It was impossible for him to lose to something like Norrack, something that was made of flesh instead of metal.

Of course, this was ruled out by the fact that he had, in fact, just been bested by the commando.

Slowly, and with an obvious limp, the cyborg walked over to him, looking down at his battered form. Norrack cocked his head for a couple of seconds, as if pondering what to do with him. The ARC trooper raised his foot, moving the armored boot over the android until it obscured most of Mecha's vision. He let it hover there for a second or two, letting the android realize what his fate was, before slamming his foot down, smashing through the robot's photoceptors, into his ferrosteel skull, and crushing the positronic brain and other processor chips. For good measure, he worked his foot back and forth, as if wishing to make absolutely certain that there was no chance in all of the Nine Hells that the machine could have survived that kind of blow.

Once he was certain he'd done the job, Norrack lifted his foot back up, inspecting the sparking ruin that had once been one the most dangerous robot on the planet. For some reason, he felt happy, and a deep feeling of satisfaction filled him.

However, he was quick to remember that Sally had retreated out of the area. He gave a quick check to his damaged leg. It would function for all effective combat purposes, but he doubted he'd be able to run at full speed, and it was now horridly vulnerable to further damage. He frowned, and went over to check his utility belt.

Murphy's Law hit then, as he discovered that Mecha's attack had sliced right through his field med kit, destroying anything he might have used to repair his leg or heal the gash on his chest. He was also cut off from command, which meant that he couldn't call for any sort of reinforcements to help him finish the job.

For a moment, he considered going back to where he'd left Bunnie and Antoine. However, he knew that the intervening time period might be more than enough for the princess to get away, and since she was the most important target of this whole mission, and Mecha had apparently bungled his part and let Elias escape, that he needed to bring at least one of the royals in for this mission to be even a partial success.

He had no choice; he had to keep on going.

He felt strangely tired as he left, following the trail that the princess had left as she'd fled.

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The prince paced back and forth inside of the command hut, wondering what he should do. They'd arrive at Blue Brook without further incident, and the wounded had immediately been rushed off to the infirmary. The transport and the Wraiths had immediately headed back out, as it had been decided that even if the majority of the escapees had been recovered, there were still all the prisoners being force marched back to Robotropolis to deal with, and they weren't about to leave their comrades to that kind of fate without trying to bail them out first.

What had him worried, though, was that there had been no contact from his sister or any of the others in her group. Actually, worried was not the proper term to describe it. Near state of panic would have been a more apt term, as he had concluded that since Mecha had come after them, and they'd seen neither hair nor hide of Norrack, that the ARC trooper must have gone after his sister instead.

That Robotnik appeared to want them alive only made his fear for her that much stronger.

"If you don't stop that, you'll wear a hole in the floor," Sir Charles said, not bothering to look up from where he was over by some computers, staring intently at them. "I'm as worried about her and the others as you are, but until we figure out a way to contact them or a patrol finds them, there's not a whole lot we can do."

"Don't we have some way of trying to figure out where she is?" the prince demanded, his tail lashing back in forth in agitation, his tone harsh with the stress he was feeling.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Sir Charles shot back, his hands furiously moving over the keyboard. "I've been trying to see if I could maybe get a signal lock on Nicole, but right now I can't risk an active scan of the area."

Elias grumbled but knew the old man was speaking the truth. If they attempted an active scan from here, odds were than any nearby enemy with the right kind of 14omm.. gear or even one of Robotnik's satellites might pick it up, and that would put them back at square one as far as this whole situation was concerned. Passive scans didn't have a range of more than a kilometer or two in dense woodlands, which meant that Sally hadn't made it anywhere near the village yet.

Images of Norrack suddenly striking down the other group filled the prince's mind, and he shook his head to clear away the morbid image.

There was another problem as well: manpower. Blue Brook didn't have the resources at the moment to merit sending out another search party. They were already overwhelmed with their currents groups, mounting a potentially suicidal rescue mission, seeing to everyone who'd been wounded, and maintaining their own perimeter defenses just in case something had gone horribly awry and the enemy now knew of this location as well.

He mulled over various avenues and solutions, refusing to admit defeat in this matter. He would not abandon the others to robotization, there had to be another way.

Finally, Uncle Chuck looked up, his shoulders slumping, his photoceptors downcast.

"I'm sorry, Eli, but there's nothing more we can do for her and the others right now," he said, walking up to him and placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "We just have to have faith in Sally and the others. They know what they're doing, and they've always managed to come out on top before."

"But they've never faced anything like this before!" Elias said, slamming his fist into a wall in frustration.

"Sally's always been able to think on her feet, and you know that," the roboticized hedgehog replied. "Right now, though, the people here need someone to command them, and since your old man's kind of out of it right now, that means its time for you to step up to the plate."

The ground squirrel frowned, having never truly been comfortable with this kind of position, despite the raids that he'd led. Still, he knew that he had to, and that he would try his best.

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She paused again, panting, looking about to make certain that no one was immediately behind her. The past few minutes had been hectic, but at long last she thought that she'd found another suitable position.

She was no longer in the Great Forest, technically speaking, as the tree line ended about fifty feet back. To her rear was a gorge that was roughly sixty or so feet deep, a shallow river running through its length.

This would probably be the best place to engage whoever came after her. If it was Mecha, the proximity of that fall would mean that he would be unable to take full advantage of his speed, lest an inadvertent misstep send him plummeting. If it was Norrack, the same reason applied about limiting his speed. Furthermore, though, the ARC trooper would have nothing that he could use to leap up and get out of her reach now.

She needed to try and rest though, to rebuild her reserves, and so she got down on her knees, and closed her eyes, once again praying that she was up to the task that lay before her. Unconsciously, she placed her hand to her stomach again, and drew courage from the child inside of her.

For its sake, she would fight, and for its sake, she would not allow herself to lose.

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Okay, hopefully that came off okay, and I think I managed to make Norrack vs. Mecha somewhat realistic and hopefully not like any of those accursed Terminator battles… though I think that would have required someone getting whacked/impaled by a heavy metal pole, or being slammed headfirst through a toilet… after systematically destroying the rest of the men's' lavatories…

At any rate, usual stuff here. All feedback is welcomed with open arms, from constructive criticisms to flames to ideas. And please, the next chapter is the grand finale climax showdown between our heroine and our… um… well, let's just say that Norrack is a category all his own and leave it at that…

I bid you a fond farewell, and now if you'll excuse me, my pillows on that bed of mine have never looked more inviting.

Also, while I was up last night, I did some cruising around the net, and I found a very interesting group of stories. If you like Star Wars, or Star Trek, you'll probably enjoy reading these. So far the best one I've discovered is 'Star Crossed' by a guy named Stravo… which is massive enough to make my stories look like a footnote in a history book. The tale brings together all your favorite guys from both series, along with some amusing (in a morbid way) twists. Some selected quotes from the story are below are below, along with the link to the site. Hope you like it.

http/www .daltonator. net/ fanfics/ archive.html (remove the spaces and paste to your browser)

"Sir, enemy vessels are listed as Ragnarok level, and the flagship is building up a power charge that appears to be approaching teraton levels." Crewman to Captain Archer, as the Eclipse class ISD 'Emperor's Will' readies its superlaser cannon against a Borg fleet 

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"The Force is strong with this one..." Darth Nemesis, in regards to Captain Kirk.

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"You think I sold out, don't you, Kirk? Well let me tell you, if you think that peer pressure is bad among you humans, it is an absolute bitch among us gods..." Q to Kirk.

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"My name is Darth..."

"Darth, Smarth, come on man, this whole dark cloak and angry demeanor thing is so not you! What happened to the wide eyed farm boy we all knew and loved?"

"He died as soon as he realized that he'd been betrayed and lied too... when he discovered that his 'training' was meant to turn him into an emotionless killing machine so that he could strike down his own father!"

"Alright, so you were lied to by a wacky old hermit and an equally insane little green midget whose greatest claim to fame is bad grammar and atrocious sentence structure..." Q to Darth Nemesis.

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"Sir, orders from Lord Nemesis have just come through regarding what to do about the Klingons." A com officer reported handing Tarsi the data pad. He glanced down at it and did a double take.

"Have these orders been confirmed?" Tarsi asked seriously.

"Yes, sir. Lord Nemesis' personal code attached as well as a voiceprint." The com officer replied, glancing at the XO nervously. Tarsi's XO peered over Tarsi's shoulder at the order. Tarsi nodded.

"Commence operations, immediately." Tarsi snapped and handed his XO the datapad. His XO stared down at the pad. There were only three words.

BASE DELTA ZERO...

The Romulan crewmen looked confused, while the Imperials bowed their heads in a brief moment of pity for the poor bastards.


	21. Battle of Souls

(Walks out, conductor's baton in hand)

Hello again people, boy these seem to be coming out in a hurry, don't they? Sorry about my usual approach, but this chapter was influenced by quite a bit of music, namely "Snake vs. Dragon" from MGS 3, and the final scene by the theme song from the Terminator series.

At any rate, hope this update finds you in good health, and that everything's going according to your life's plans.

And as usual, many thanks to all who have read this story, and to those of you who have taken time out of your busy lives to review, I am most grateful, and I hope you have found my responses adequate. (bows humbly).

Lawyers- … Insert generic disclaimer here, I'm sure your oily minds can come up with one…

That said, here's chapter twenty one… may the best soldier win…

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Battle of Souls

Breathing in and out, with images of her friends and family, and of Sonic, drifting through her mind, that was how she was when he found her. She became aware that someone was watching her, and she slowly opened her eyes to watch Norrack come out of the trees. The ARC trooper was a mess. His armor marred by black carbon streaking and smears of neon green hydrostatic gel. Some plates were gone completely, shorn off after taking one blaster bolt too many. Blood was there as well, a dark crimson stain upon the zersium plates. One of his legs was damaged, and the princess could see the inner workings of the limb. She was surprised by that, to say the least, as she'd had no idea that one of his limbs was mechanical.

However, what drew her attention the most was his eyes. The way they seemed so dull, despite their inner glow… the image of a zombie came to mind.

In the end, though, was there really a whole lot of difference between the two of them, save that one was enthralled through the power of magic, the other one enslaved by technology? Yes, that was exactly what he was, an unwitting or unwilling servant of the tyrant that ruled this world. Killing him would be a mercy, she decided as she felt pity swell within her soul.

She also noted the damage done to his weapons, and she was silently grateful for it, as it meant that she wouldn't have to worry about anything except for his claws and his kaiburr sword, which would be trouble enough on their own.

Slowly, the young ground squirrel rose to her feet, before adopting a two handed stance, one foot slightly forward and bent, the other one straightened out and behind her. Her eyes narrowed, steel coming into the irises, and she angled the blade towards her adversary. For a moment Norrack just stood there, slowly cocking his head, as if he didn't know what to make of this show of defiance.

For several moments, nothing happened, as the cyborg killing machine stared at his prey. Sally was confused, to say the least. What was her foe attempting to do? Was he trying to analyze her stance and the surrounds, so that he might get the best possible avenue of approach? Was he silently measuring his chances, and debating if attack would even be a good idea at the moment, as she was curious as to why he hadn't called for support, considering that he looked a little banged up. Or was it something more than that. For a second, she thought she saw a slight flicker in his eyes, but it quickly faded.

In truth, the ARC trooper was trying to figure out what he should do. While he had been searching he'd been doing a mental diagnostic of his systems, and with the information he'd gathered, he'd reached a very sobering conclusions. Between the damage to his armor, his HUD being offline, his two ranged weapons gone, and the damage suffered to his cybernetic limbs, he'd realized that he was probably operating at about twelve percent of his optimum combat capacity.

Would that be enough to take her down? He knew that he could more than likely kill her despite everything that had been done to him, but she was of no use to his master as a corpse. The environment that she had chosen as her final stand would also hamper him, limiting his mobility and the manner in which he could attack. It could also present a problem if she decided to try and commit suicide rather than let herself be captured.

He looked back at her, at her stance. There was something about it that reminded him of something. What was it though? Why did this seem familiar, where had he seen this before? Norrack shook his head after a moment or two. Whatever was buried in his mind, he'd think of it later. Now, though, he had a job to do. It was time to end this.

He drew his energy blade and ignited it, unsheathing his claws at the same time.

Several seconds passed, as each combatant stared at the other, a final sizing up before they closed the distance between themselves.

Sally struck first, charging forward and bringing the Sword of Acorns above her head. However, as she closed the distance between herself and Norrack, she feinted and instead of bringing the cortosis weapon down in a brutally simplistic chop that the commando probably would have had no trouble blocking, gave the weapon a deft spin, bringing it in from the side and slashing hard at the battered plates of the ARC trooper's chest armor. Norrack quickly moved to intercept the attack, bringing his claws to bear upon her. At the last possible second, though, Sally twisted her blade, and the ancient weapon wound up sliding between the vibrating talons.

It was a feint within a feint within a feint, and it likely would have been impossible with a normal weapon or even another vibro blade, as the cyborg probably could have twisted his twin claws with sufficient strength to snap the weapon in half. That was not the case in a blade forged of pure cortosis, and the killing machine quickly had to twist back risk getting skewered like a pig meant for roasting. He tried to counter attack, bringing his energy blade in for a strike at her left arm, but the princess was anticipating that, and she yanked her arm backwards out of range of the blow, while simultaneously using her right to slide her ancestral blade out from between the commando's claws and swat the kaiburr sword aside.

Ducking down and spinning, she apparently decided to adopt one of his tactics, and aimed for his legs. Normally, against a foe skilled with fighting with two very lethal weapons, this would have opened her up to have her head attacked. But in this case, she knew that she was needed alive and she intended to use that complication to the best of her advantage, much to Norrack's frustration. He was able to jump over the attack, but he could not follow through with a thrust from his energy blade that would have doubtlessly ended the battle there.

He landed, and tried to get an attack combo going, but Sally back flipped out of the way and quickly used the new distance between the two of them to get her own momentum built up.

Her first attack was a slice at the cyborg's hip, and it came so perilously close to connecting that it actually made her wonder if he wasn't trying to lure her into some kind of trap. She then brought the longsword up and knocked aside a strike from the energy blade, before spinning it around and thrusting the sword down. This was because Norrack was attempting to drive his claws into her right leg, something she knew would cripple her and make the fight a one sided one. However, the ARC trooper quickly found himself having to decide between trying to make that attack and risking having one of his own limbs taken out of commission. He decided for caution and yanked it backwards.

Sally spun the sword again, parrying another slash from her foe's energy weapon, before slicing at his left arm again. As before, she came close, but not quite close enough to make a hit. Norrack attempted to make a roundhouse kick then, but she ducked beneath it. Had he been a normal Mobian, it is rather likely that the killing machine would have suddenly found himself devoid of a leg, as the ground squirrel brought her weapon along a path that would have intercepted it at the kneecap. But he was able to leap over it with incredible ease, almost as if he had actually foreseen her doing it. He moved forward while in midair, curled up into a ball. Sally realized almost too late what was about to happen and literally willed herself to dive forward.

She felt an unnerving hum come close to her ear, and she could have sworn that she felt her foe's kaiburr sword catch a piece of her nagai combat suit. She hit the ground, rolled up, and then jumped up and twisted about just in time to block another strike at her extremities by the ARC trooper. The vibro claws were deflected, and she found herself on the defensive, whipping her blade back and forth in a desperate effort to keep Norrack's strike from shattering her defenses and hitting home.

He slashed at her with his energy blade, the attack coming down at her from the left. She moved her weapon to intercept it, having to twist herself to the side to avoid his talons, and stopped the attack cold. She took a chance then, and slid her weapon down the length of her foe's. Norrack yanked his arm back just in time to avoid having his thumb severed off, giving the princess the edge she needed to start back on the offensive.

She forced the cyborg backwards, driving him towards the cliff, her attacks coming in lighting fast and preventing him from making any offensive moves against her.

Truthfully, the ARC trooper was very much surprised by the tactics that the ground squirrel was exhibiting. He had not anticipated that she would be anywhere near this aggressive of a target. By all logical points, she should have been exhausted, both physically and mentally, by all that he had put her and her squadron through this day and the previous one. The destruction of her home, the shockingly brutal death of everyone else that he had killed and left behind for them to bear witness to should have had her either wild eyed with panic or launching into such a reckless assault that she would leave glaring holes in her defenses and make the battle rather simple.

She had the aggressive part down pat, but he was surprised by the fact that the only holes that she seemed to be leaving for him to take advantage of were ones that would have resulted in a very rapid death. This was quickly becoming more difficult than he had anticipated, and he wondered how he might out think this cunning and dangerous opponent.

He ducked underneath a slice that was meant to decapitate him, thinking that this would enable him to get a clear shot at his foe. However, Sally once again proved to be above the average level of soldier competency, as she threw a kick into the move. Normally, such a blow would have resulted in the person behind the kick getting a broken foot for their trouble, but the princess knew this, and had aimed for the ARC trooper's waist, where the thick armor plates were not present. The blow was relatively insignificant, more of an annoyance that didn't actually cause the cyborg any pain, and he still tried to stab her in the leg. However, she, like himself, apparently knew of this as well, and vaulted out of the way.

As she hit, she came back in, once again parrying the blows of her nemesis and trying to drive him backwards. The cyborg grudgingly gave ground, knowing that the ground squirrel was working him towards the edge, and that the sides were getting thinner, limiting his movement even further. Still, he was confident that if the need arose, that he could simply jump over her head. His leg wasn't damaged that badly after all.

What worried him, though, was that he now seemed distracted. There was something scratching the back of his mind, something that was almost akin to a tangible, physical pain, but at the same time, was not. He was confused, didn't understand why he couldn't focus his mind on finishing this task. It was his job and duty to take the leader of the Knothole Freedom Fighters alive and breathing, so that his master could use her to break the will of the rest of the rebels. There could be no greater task ever given out by his master, to merely be trusted with such a delicate operation implied great faith, and he knew that he should have been honored, so why couldn't he focus on it now? Why?

So lost was he in his thoughts, that he barely was able to get his kaiburr sword down in time to deflect a thrust aimed straight for his heart. He struck out with his claws, one more slashing at her exposed right arm. The blow was close; in fact, it even managed to cut through the armor weave of the nagai suit. However, it did little other than that. As a matter of fact, the princess then did something that was so crazy he had never even considered it.

She spat in his face.

He took it right in his left eye, and he staggered back in surprise for a second, realizing the danger of being blind on one side of his body. Sally took full advantage of it, and lashed out. There was a metallic screeching as the Sword of Acorns parted his armor and cut into his ribs.

He hissed in pain as he felt blood flow from the wound. It wasn't a lethal one, but it still stung like hellfire. Thankfully for him, a well placed back flip got him out of the way of any further attacks and he was able to clear the spittle from his eye before she could do any more damage, but he realized he would have to be wary of any further tricks of that nature. It was likely sheer luck that had stopped the girl from being able to turn that strike into a fatal blow.

However, when he turned his eyes back on her, he noticed something that actually made him fearful. The princess was about twenty feet away from him, and leveling her plasma rifle. He knew what she was carrying, and knew what that DC-19 would do to him if it was fired on full automatic with his armor in the condition that it was in, particularly with the damage that had been done to his visor.

Even as she was leveling it, he charged her. However, even though he could only achieve normal speeds with his leg damaged as it was, he was still able to reach her in time to stop her from firing on him. She dropped the weapon, and brought her ancestral blade up to try and repel him.

She blocked his first two strikes with ease, before he began to really hammer home his blows. Slashing, thrusting, chopping, kicking at her sides, the ARC trooper did everything in his power to try and take her down. As usual though, the princess was able to repel the strikes, mostly because she didn't have to worry about protecting any vital areas.

There was still that dull throbbing in the back of his skull, the part of him that was shirking away from this, not wanting to fulfill his duty. He growled and suppressed the suddenly treasonous voice, before glaring down at his target. She stared back at him, her azure eyes looking violet behind the red tinted visor that she wore. She was absolutely without fear, completely calm and in control. He wondered how she could be so cool, so collected considering all that she had been through. She certainly had steel in her blood, as the old saying went, and he was wondering where she drew her strength from.

She was refusing to give ground before him, determined to hold him there, and it made him confused. Was she hoping that she might drive him back; he had to wonder as she deftly parried a claw attack, spinning the blade afterwards and attempting to sever his arm before whipping it over and repelling another attack from his kaiburr sword. It seemed logical enough to him, though he had to conclude that she must be trying to force him to the edge of the cliff again. She had no way of realistically being able to retrieve her weapon, as that would require turning her back on him, hoping that she could out run him back to were it lay, and then pick it up, level it, and inflict sufficient damage to kill him before he could catch back up to her, and he wasn't about to let her spit in his face again.

It was for that same reason that he did not attempt to bend down and retrieve the rifle for his own use, it would leave him ridiculously exposed to her counter attack, and unlike him, she was aiming to kill.

For some seconds, they continued to trade blows until Sally knew it was time.

Norrack's newly discovered sixth sensed warned him that something was up before it occurred, but it gave no warning as to what it might be that was going to become a danger to him. However, when the ground squirrel abruptly shoved him backwards, and then twisted and dove back towards the forest, he began to get the sinking suspicion that he'd been had.

He looked down instinctively as a whine split the air, and his eyes were drawn to the DC-19. Instantly, he realized what was going on, but he was confused. According to the databanks that he had been given, that weapon did not have an overload or self destruct feature on it. However, he wasn't about to test that bit of intelligence, as it was possible that the Freedom Fighters might have added such a feature to leave their foes a nasty goodbye present in the event of their deaths, and he leaped backwards.

A second later, it exploded, but not quite as he'd expected. The shrapnel from the blast was minimal, and most of it impacted against his relatively undamaged leg armor. However, the true devastation that came forth, the true damage that it inflicted, was the flash that came with it as have of a power pack was incinerated. Norrack had not been expecting such an atypical explosion, and it was here that one of his innate advantages turned into a severe liability. His eyes, enhanced as they were by the surgery that he'd been put through, relied on a polarizing HUD visor to protect them from rapid light changes. He didn't have that anymore, and what would have passed for an ordinary roman candle or the like was instead like a blinding sun to him.

Screaming in pain as white hot agony was jammed into the back of his skull; he staggered backwards, closer to the cliff edge. He was by no means in danger of going over it just yet, but the fact that he was without his sight made him significantly more vulnerable.

Sally had been depending on that, it had been her plan from the beginning, and she smiled grimly as she moved in to finish the ARC trooper off.

He heard her coming, and opened his eyes to try and see, but all that met his vision was flashing spots and stars. Thus, he did the best he could in anticipating what was going to happen. He knew the area around him was narrower here than it was elsewhere, which meant that a frontal assault would be most likely. The attacks would either be aimed at his chest or his head, and probably with the intention of forcing him to make one step too far, provided that she didn't skewer him outright because he couldn't see anything.

He focused through the pain, and readied himself, gritting his teeth and setting his feet. He could not retreat, not here, not now.

He heard her draw close, heard the hissing of the cortosis blade as it came in. Down and to the left, moving up, aimed at his ribs. His claws swatted it aside, and he suddenly realized another disadvantage, that because of his lack of eyesight, he didn't trust himself to counter attack and not hit a vital region on his enemy. Strike two came in after that… sounded like it was coming in from the other side this time, and he deftly spun his energy blade, and felt a slight bit of relief when he was rewarded by the sound of the two weapons connecting against each other. He made a quick calculation and swung with his claws, hoping to take her hands off and finally end this accursed fight. She drew back however, and his swing connected with nothing but air.

For a full ten seconds, they battled like this, before some progress was finally made.

Norrack moved his energy blade out to try and block an attack, but Sally twisted the weapon out of the way at the last minute, and drove it up and home.

Metal, armor weave, and circuitry surrendered before the fine toned edge of the Sword of Acorns, as the blade came in just above the elbow, entering through one end of the arm and coming out through the other. All control over the limb appeared to cease, and it went limp, dropping its deadly energy weapon, which deactivated once it hit the ground. The princess was surprised to see sparking wires instead of a fresh gout of blood. However, and that shock would cost her greatly.

Norrack brought his left arm across and down before she could react. Pain blossomed as she felt the vibro claws tear across her right arm, raking flesh from bone. The ground squirrel retreated backwards, and it was then that a first happened for her. In all her years of conducting raids, she'd had many close calls, and had been shot a couple of times, but she'd always managed to keep her cries to a minimum, like a gasp or a whimper. Not now though, she'd never felt pain and agony such as a vibro weapon was capable of inflicting. Now she at last understood why such a weapon had been banned, deemed inhumane, and with that terrible epiphany it came. It started low, somewhere in her gut, and she found that she could not cut it off before it escaped through her mouth.

She threw her head back and let forth a howl of agony that would have surely shaken any nearby deceased out of their eternal rest. Tears formed in her eyes, and she felt a second scream welling up inside. She bit her lip, tearing into her own flesh until it bled to try and stop the agony that was coursing through her arm. Instinctively, she brought her hand to it, pressing the ancient weapon that she carried up against the shredded flesh and fur, staining the pommel and grip dark red with her life fluids.

Trying to force the pain induced tears away she looked back at her foe, wondering why he hadn't rushed forward to finish the job. Norrack had his eyes opened again, and was looking in her direction, but they seemed unfocused, as if he still couldn't see very well.

Desperately trying to think of something other than the pain, her eyes went to the sparks coming from his now very much useless arm. She didn't understand. Between that and his leg, it looked as if what she was facing was something different from what an ARC trooper was supposed to be. Uncle Chuck and said that they were cyborg super soldiers, blends of machine and Mobian into a formidable instrument of warfare. However, he'd said that their cybernetics had been limited to a neural lace and the interlink that they shared with their armor. He'd mentioned nothing of cybernetic limbs. But then again, the 'original' ARCs would have been born with their genetically enhanced strength and speed, and likely would have never needed such additions. Indeed, they probably would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

The cyborg groaned, and shook his head slightly, and she noticed that his pupils were a little smaller and appeared to be more focused, indicating that he was starting to get his eyesight back. Trying to shove aside the pain that still ravaged her, the princess charged the commando, knowing that this was probably going to be her last chance to try and take him out.

She came in with an upwards swing, which he blocked with his claws. She then brought he weapon back down, trying to thrust at his right leg, the appendage that he would likely have the most trouble attempting to protect and she needed to further cripple him. He took a step back, getting just out of the range of the strike. Still, the expectant counter strike never came. She tried again, and was once more defeated, but again, no retaliation was forthcoming. She was surprised, but chalked it up to the cyborg being off balanced and probably still slightly disoriented from the loss of his arm and her impromptu flash bang.

In truth, it was something similar to that.

Norrack still couldn't' see very well, he perceived his target as a dark blur against a flashing red background, though the world was slowly starting to return to normal. However, what troubled him had been the scream, the princess' scream. The cry sounded both distant and familiar to him, as if he'd heard something like it before, something like it, but not from her. He struggled, torn between keeping her from killing him and finding out why that scream of anguish had been so familiar to him. He had to know…

_Concentrate on your objective! _

The voices screamed, many of them in unison, trying to drown out the aftereffects of the cry, trying to silence it and keep him from thinking about it. Normally, he would have heeded the wisdom of those collective voices, normally he would have focused and tried to keep his foe from becoming an even greater threat than she already was, wounded or not. But not this time… that cry, he had to find the source, he had to know!

He felt the dull throbbing that had been in his mind stop, felt that other presence again, rising to help him once more. It beat back the voices, drowned _them_ out, silenced _them,_ There was a new side to it, one that was almost bestial in its fury and tenacity, and he had the sudden image of an adult drexyl tearing down a dura-crete wall.

Slowly, he seemed to recall where he'd heard that scream. An image formed in front of him. It was a mouse, a female, her eyes widen in pain and fear, the glow of life leaving them behind. There had been blood, Goddess above there had been blood everywhere. There had been another scream, mixing in hellish harmony with the girl's dying cry. It had been deeper, almost mechanical, in a way. He wondered who's that had been, and then after a moment, it dawned upon him. The other scream had been his own…

All the while there had been insane cackling coming from somewhere in the darkness, from a source he could not immediately identify. Once it clicked a second later, though, he recognized it as his master's.

He felt the voices returning, starting to overpower the other presence, force it back down, and its influence was obvious. His sight, now almost fully returned, enabled him to watch as his target's blade came in, thrusting towards his heart. In a flash, his claws moved, intercepted and twisted. With her grip being weakened by both the intense pain that was coursing through her, and the fact that she only had one hand to begin with, Sally was unable to stop him from ripping her sword from her grip.

It sailed back over her shoulder, landing blade point first into the earth, its handle sticking up as if it was waiting on some long forgotten battlefield for some new owner to claim it.

This was it, she thought, nearly slumping to the ground in despair. She'd done the best that she could, but she was now unarmed, wounded, and defenseless before Norrack. He was about to end the fight, one way or another. She waited for the blow to come, for him to render her unconscious.

He moved to do so, retracting his claws and reaching back, preparing his fist to strike. He hesitated for just a moment though, and seemed to stare at her, his green eye's narrowing behind his shattered visor. Why did he hesitate, her mind screamed? Was he trying to torment her, remind her of the futility of her actions?

He prepared himself to let the blow fall, to finish his mission. He could feel that other presence, it was still there, still struggling, but the power of the voices seemed to have suppressed it. However, as he looked at his target, looked into her blue eyes, which glared back at him in steely defiance despite everything, he found himself being lost inside of them.

He heard the voices begin to shout, the anger that was present in them, demanding that his finish the job, let his fist fall. However, that strange other presence seemed to find a second wind, and rose up fresh and renewed, smashing them back. The sudden war that raged inside of the ARC trooper's mind was a tangible thing, and he felt the pain course through brain. It was an agony that he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages… not since…

A flash of a memory, almost to brief for him to grasp, an operating room, someone's face leering down at him… someone with a large nose and cold grey eyes.

He screamed again, clutching his hand to his head, staggering backwards slightly, as the war in his mind raged on. The pain, Goddess, the pain, he wanted it to stop, it hurt so much. Heaven's help him, he wanted anything to happen, anything to make that agony cease, to make it go away. It was blinding him anew, the voices screaming, the 'other' beating them back. He felt like a pane of glass, something so fragile that it threatened to shatter at any minute.

Slowly, the voices seemed to be winning, to be overpowering the other, and he tried to straighten up, well aware of the fact that had he not been able to disarm his foe, he would doubtlessly have been killed by now.

He struggled, moving his fist out, preparing to step forward and render his foe pacified and ready for him to go home.

And then he stared at her again, and he felt the other surge back in one final desperate bid for control. It couldn't last, couldn't hope to, but he believed he understood what it was trying to do. Now the choice was his…

Sally watched the seizure like moves of her opponent, wondering what was going on inside of his head, what was causing him to behave like this. His pain seemed to rival her own as he staggered, almost going to his knees at one point. For almost a minute, this seemed to continue, and she tried to will herself to move, to do something, but she couldn't. She was paralyzed, as if her feet were caught in solid dura-crete, or deep mud.

Norrack looked like he was recovering for a second, and he reached his fist back, taking a step forward, preparing to finish her. However, he wrenched himself back wards a step or two, a fresh howl coming from within him. His eyes focused on her again, and this time, fire burned within them. He didn't speak, but she could translate what he was trying to tell her, the desperate message those emerald orbs were trying to convey.

_Kill me! _They screamed at her, begged of her.

She snapped out of it, and rushed forward, her vest billowing out behind her.

The killing machine staggered back another step, perilously close to the edge of the chasm now.

She leaped, coming up off the ground in a move she used so often it was second nature to her.

Her right leg extended outward, while her left angled itself backwards.

Time slowed, and she felt the impact of her boot connect upon the ARC trooper's layered chestplate.

The force transferred, knocking him backwards.

He teetered upon the edge, looking for a moment as if he might somehow regain his balance.

Then he began to fall, gravity claiming him.

She caught his eyes as she landed, saw the fire leaving them returning to the dull lifelessness they had been filled with before, leaving her with one final message.

_Thank you… _

Then he was gone.

She stepped over to the edge, forcing away the pain that was eating at her. She had to watch this, she had to know. The cyborg was falling rapidly, slamming once against the side of the cliff about halfway down, before coming to a crushing halt that she couldn't help but wince at.

She stared down at him, half expecting him to get up, look at the face of the ravine that he was in, and start climbing back up. But he didn't. He lay where he was, unmoving, not even twitching.

It was over.

The pain in her arm drew her back to her own condition, and she became aware of just how dire it was. Bone was exposed down the whole length of the arm, and her hand twitching and spasmed periodically as the dying nerves clung to life. What worried her most was the blood flow, though. Coagulation and platelets had stopped some of it, but she was still bleeding rapidly, the red fluid dripping over of her fingers and staining the ground dark. She was starting to feel lightheaded already, and she knew she would bleed to death very soon.

She wondered if she could make a tourniquet and use that to save herself. But could she make it with one hand, and fast enough?

Then her eyes fell upon it. Norrack's kaiburr sword lay upon the ground, a harmless cylinder. Right now it looked like any other shiny metallic object, giving no hint at all to the deadly, curving energy blade that it could summon forth. She'd seen it in action before, knew what it could do.

She stumbled over to it, looking around it as she picked it up, trying to find an activation switch. She found it about three quarters of the way up the hilt, a tinny button set into it, surrounded by a metal collar that would make it difficult to accidentally activate. She pressed it, and the aqua white light sprang to life, the gentle curve that made it look more like a work of art, a thing of beauty, than the lethal killing instrument that it was.

She held it close, before carefully positioning it underneath her right arm, as she didn't trust herself to try it the other way. She hesitated for just a moment, gritting her teeth, bracing herself for the pain.

She brought it up in one swift stroke. The stench of burnt flesh and fur filled her nostrils, but there was no pain, much to her surprise. She looked down, not entirely certain that she'd done what she'd been trying to do. However, her right arm lay upon the ground, neatly severed about six inches above the elbow. The stump was cauterized, and no more blood flowed from the wound.

She carefully deactivated the weapon, and spent a couple of seconds staring at it, looking at the carefully contoured grip and the simple elegance that it seemed to give off, stark contrasts to what its purpose was.

She then turned, and threw the weapon over the side of the cliff, letting it follow the path of its owner.

With that deed accomplished, she got up, and stumbled away from the cliff. She almost made it to her sword before she collapsed, unable to go any further. Blackness closed in then, and oblivion claimed her.

About two or three hours would pass before a patrol would pick up the signals from Nicole, and move to investigate. They would find her, and take her to her family. She would be battered, exhausted, and in need to serious medical attention, but she would survive.

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The blackness began to fade, receding back to whatever dark corner that it had come forth from. With a groan, he opened his eyes, and was made aware of the massive, throbbing headache that he had. He tried to move his right arm to his head, but found that he couldn't, that it would not respond. He thought he remembered a fall… must have broken it then… funny that it didn't hurt, though. The rest of him seemed fine enough, so he used his left arm instead. It connected with something, something metallic… a helmet? Why in the Goddess' name did he have a helmet on?

He opened his eyes, and as they adjusted to the darkness, found himself on a rocky riverbank. He looked down, and wondered how he had survived landing on this kind of terrain, as he seemed to remember the fall being something of a doozy. Better not question good fortune, he thought, and looked out at the slow moving river.

There was strange, whispering sensation in his mind, he couldn't quite hear the words, so he ignored them for now. Besides, his throat burned, and he ached with thirst, a far more pressing matter at the moment as far as he was concerned.

Grunting, he got to his feet, noting that he had a bad limp in one of his legs. Slowly moving over, feeling the aching that seemed to spread throughout his body, he made his way to the water. He needed to get this blasted thing off of his head for him to drink though. He felt around underneath the thing, before pulling it off.

He reached out, and closed his eyes as he all but inhaled the cool water. It was slightly sweet, and had it been the nectar that the heavens partook of, he didn't think it would have felt as good.

Greedily, he swallowed some more and more after that, until at last the thirst was quenched. Sighing in content, he leaned back slightly and opened his eyes. They widened after a second as he caught part of his reflection in the moving water.

He looked down, not daring to believe what he saw. He blinked once, twice, thrice, waiting for the image to disappear, to show him his true face, rather than this scarred thing he was looking at. He brought up a finger to trace the discolorations in his fur, noting how they were, how they seemed too organized and akin to one another for them to have occurred naturally. He paused again when he saw the finger, and the armor that was around it. He traced that back to his hand, and his hand to his arm, and his arm to his chest.

What was going on here? Since when did he…

Then the memories came flashing back. He saw a fox cub down on the ground, his arms charred almost to the bone. One armored hand was upon his chest, pinning him to the ground the other was cocked back and ready to deliver a lethal strike through his heart. He saw a Mobian's head erupt into a rapidly expanding blob of bones, brains, and blood as he fired a plasma caster round into it. He saw a man begin to scream as he skinned him. He saw fear and terror in the eyes of scores of people, heard the pleading of a young rabbit as he set fire to a trio of robotic limbs.

Over and over these images flashed, and he began to hyperventilate, his breathing becoming quick and unsteady as they moved before his eyes like some macabre slide show. He looked about, staring down at his hand, imagining it bathed in blood, imagining himself covered in the substance. He cried out in pain and agony, gripping his head and shaking it back and forth, tears coming to his eyes as the images began to move faster, repeating themselves circulating around and making him beg for them to stop.

It was then that he heard the voice again. It was quiet, weak, but now that he was more fully awake, he could hear it more easily. It was telling him to get moving and finish what he'd started… telling him to go out and capture his primary objective, killing any who dared to stand against him.

Rage replaced sorrow, and a particular memory suddenly halted in front of him, that of a large Overlander, his eye burning like coals, chuckling to himself, laughing manically.

The fury boiled in his blood, and his clenched his fist in anger, the servos whining. He didn't realize it, but anyone standing near him would have seen his eyes suddenly glow solid white, pupils and irises fading into milky nothingness. He heard the voice cry out one more time for him to do what he was told, before he turned his anger upon it. It was promptly silenced, and something told him it wasn't coming back.

Still the rage did not abate, and around him, the water began to ripple, while stones vibrated and the air trembled, tangible evidence to the sheer, raw power and hate that was coursing through him. He suddenly spread his good arm out, leaned back, and let it come out.

It was a roar the likes of which had never been heard before upon the planet Mobius. There was power behind it, a material feeling that would inspire fear and nightmares in all who heard it for months to come. No one knew how far it carried or what had truly created it, but later myths would credit it as being heard round the world and being the scream of hundreds of tormented and restless dead, who cried out over the brutality of their demises.

The irony would be great indeed there.

The scream ended, and he stared back down at his reflection, panting. The rage still boiled within him, and that single image still filled his mind. Baring his teeth, he reached down, and grabbed his helmet, placing it back over his head, hiding his visage from the world.

He felt something then, and looked out over the side of the bank. He saw it, the silvery moonlight reflecting off of the handle of his weapon. Getting up, willing the pain out of his body, he stalked over to it, heedless of his limp. He reached it, inspected it, and then activated it.

The energy blade sprang to life, glowing and lighting the surroundings up. A wicked smile came over his face, as he deactivated it, and then stuck it in its holster. He then turned in the direction of Robotropolis, or the closest that he could get from where he was, and started moving towards it.

There would be a reckoning for all that had been done… for all the blood that had been spilled…

He would be an Angel of Death yet again…

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Okay, stopping it right there. One last chapter after this one, and then the epilogue, then all will be done… for this installment.

As it stands though, I am suffering from one major problem with said sequel: I have nary a clue what I should name it. So, suggestions are most welcome (adopts sad puppy eyed look). Also, feedback is welcomed in all of its forms, from constructive criticism, flames, ideas, anything you can think of. Also, if you spot any glarring errors, let me know so I can fix them, thanks.

That said, I must be going, and I wish you all good day, and hope that this chapter has been worth your while.


	22. Reckoning

Good day to you all, and I hope your doing well. Adjusting to the life at the University has been somewhat hellish… perhaps because I made the foolish error of signing up for 18 hours worth of courses… all of them with multiple term papers…

At any rate, I hope this update finds you in good health, and that you enjoy the next to the last chapter. Expect many things to happen in the next two, and a setup for the sequel.

Also, those of you who have read, I thank you for taking the time to do so. Those of you who have reviewed have my heartfelt thanks as well.

Lawyer: Don't you guys have a fast food chain to sue because someone's ice cream or milkshake gave them an ice cream headache or something? I own nadda, except my own OCs, or their gravestones.

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Reckoning

She was floating, that's what it felt like. Drifting upon a sea of ethers, up and down, back and forth, with memories breaking the darkness like a flash of lightning during a storm.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to awaken, becoming aware of the waking world around her. She heard sounds of various beeps and other such noises that one associated with a hospital room. Why would she be…?

Then she remembered. The battle, the chase, Norrack, her friends…

She opened her eyes fully, leaping up, scarcely aware of a restraining hand that was suddenly upon her shoulder. She looked over, and saw her father, relief and concern shining in his eyes. Wordlessly, he embraced her, sobbing quietly. To say that she was startled would have been something of an understatement, but after a second or two, she returned the embrace. To her further surprise, she felt her right arm move at her command, and drawing back, she saw it.

There was a silver prosthetic where her right arm had been, neatly connecting to the flesh. It was rather simple, lacking even a covering, so it looked like a mess of wires and servos right now. Nonetheless, she wondered how long she'd been out for her to have had that put on.

"You're awake," her father said abruptly, holding her close, but she pushed him back slightly, looking into his tearing eyes.

"What about the others?" she asked, fear in her voice, praying that her friends were not… she couldn't even bare to think about it.

"They're fine," came a new voice, and peering over her father's shoulder, she saw Uncle Chuck, looking somewhat ragged, a datapad in his hands. A frown crossed his face. "Well, I shouldn't say fine, but they're alive."

She looked at the old scientist, who frowned, and then sighed, before looking back at her.

"We found at about the same time we found you, two days ago, all hunched up together," he said. "Bunnie and Antoine were out cold, and Derrick was half mad with pain, took a couple of shots at the guys who found them. Fortunately, he missed." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "We got off okay, due to some interference on the part of the Blue Brook soldiers, but we still had wounded."

"How bad?" She dared to inquire.

"Antoine's like you, except he's missing an eye as well," Sir Charles said, "Lupe's got a couple of broken ribs, Rotor got his chest burned pretty badly, but he's fine other than that, and Mecha managed to fillet Colonel St. John's face before our help arrived." He stopped there, as he thought about how to break the news of her best friend to her.

"Bunnie?" the princess asked.

In a somber tone, he told her what had transpired. The news had hit her hard, and she started to cry into her father's shoulder, her will finally collapsing as she heard that her friend, the girl that had practically been a sister to her all these years, would never be normal again.

Then there were the children. They'd done all they could, but while bacta was a miraculous substance, even it had its limit. It merely rapidly accelerated the bodies natural healing and regenitive capabilities, it could not regrow limbs, or in Amy's case, heal a spinal cord that had been so utterly shattered that there was little left to put back together. As it was, she would likely be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of her life, and they'd had to reinforce her backbone with so much metal that she wouldn't even be able to go near a metal detector without setting it off.

Tails fared only a little better. He'd carry the scars of those flames with him to his grave. Hearing that her child had been maimed like that brought more tears, but the old man could hardly blame her. Indeed, he was tempted to cry himself, and was prevented only by the fact that he couldn't shed tears in the first place.

"Then there's Derrick," he said after a couple of minutes passed. She looked up at him, and he sighed. "He's got four ribs that we had to surgically go in and glue back together, his right femur was compound fractured so violently that it virtually shredded his leg muscles in that region, and his left fibula and tibia were both in about thirty different pieces…"

"Will he be okay?" she asked, knowing what she was about to hear wouldn't be good.

"We've repaired most of the damage, but I can guarantee that he'll carry a bad limp for the rest of his life," the mechanized hedgehog said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "His fighting days are over…"

Sally remained silent, knowing that this would be a crushing blow to the old warrior. She wondered how he could take it… if he would be able to take it.

"And then there's you," the scientist continued with a slight nod, gesturing to his datapad. "Physically speaking, you're fine, aside from your arm, but…" he trailed off

She looked into his eyes, and realized what he must have been talking about. Fear gripped her, and she placed a hand to her stomach. The flash of anxiety passed after a second though. She wasn't quite sure how, but she knew that her child was okay, that by some miracle, it had survived all that she had been through.

"Sally," her father said, his voice almost breaking, "why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why," she responded, trying to keep her tone neutral and devoid of hostility. There had been enough of that.

"I figured as much," he said, his shoulder slumping, as if the whole sky had suddenly fallen upon him. "Bean… Sally… I'm sorry, I've been…" he couldn't finish, though, and broke down into tears again.

The girl reached forward, and gently embraced her father, letting him cry on her. A sad smile made its way to her face, and she wondered how badly this decision would haunt him. Hundreds were dead because of a mistake he'd made, but looking at him, how pathetic he seemed now, nothing like the monarch that she knew, she couldn't hate him for it. He'd been blinded by his need to defy the man who'd destroyed his kingdom and his people to the point where he couldn't see the truth.

Gunter came to mind. The cougar and her father weren't really that much different. They'd both been so desperate to do something, anything, other than run away that they hadn't realized they had no hope of victory.

But there would be other battles, at other times, and she would be certain that they never made that mistake again. Robotnik would yet be cast down.

Sir Charles cleared his throat a moment later, causing them to both look up at him. "I hate to interrupt, your majesties, but there's something we need to discuss," he said, his voice sober, an undertone of worry detectable in it.

"What?" the king inquired, pausing to wipe away some of his tears.

"Rotor, Reynard, and I have been discussing this with some of the soldiers around here, and we've decided that we need to launch an attack at Robotropolis, now," he told them, deadly serious.

"What?" Maximilian stated, utter baffled by this. "But our losses have been catastrophic, to say nothing of the soldiers who died trying to free the prisoners from the battle as they were taken back to that wretched city!"

"My lord," Uncle Chuck began, very calm, almost eerily so. "We have to strike now or this war will be over before we know it. Robotnik has the plans from the ARC project, he has a fresh supply of prisoners, and he has a cache of kaiburr crystals." He paused, staring them dead in the eyes. "He has everything he needs to make an entire squadron of Norracks, or, Goddess help us, an army of them!"

They let that thought sink in, and Sally felt dread pool in her belly. They had barely been able to defeat a single ARC trooper, and a lot of that had been luck. The thought of any army of them, of hundreds of armored and shielded killing machines charging about a battlefield, sent fear through her like she'd never before known. If Julian was allowed to construct such a force, there would be no stopping him. He would use those cyborgs to crush every last bastion of resistance arrayed against him.

She nodded, and looked at him. "Who's leading the assault?"

"Myself and Rotor," he replied. "He's already back up and about and we may need his hacking abilities. As for me, well, age doesn't bother a robot."

With that he turned and left, no doubt heading for an armory.

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Deep in the command center of Robotropolis, the purple furred walrus was leading his group forward. He was nervous, to say the least. So far, they had encountered exactly zero resistance. No Swat Bots, no Hover Bot patrols, not a single thing. They might have been jamming and killing cameras all along the way here, but this was blatantly ridiculous. Frankly, the Freedom Fighter's gut instinct was blaring 'it's a trap!' as loud as it possibly could. But he knew they couldn't abandon this mission. They had to take bullet head down and Snivley while they were at it, or else their cause would be lost.

He scanned about again, one side of his vision tinted slightly green from the camera that was attached to his helmet. The others, with the exception of the children and Derrick, were watching their progress. The kids were not watching for the obvious reason of this was a take no prisoners mission, and the Mandalorian was still out cold from his surgery.

They were practically to the control room doors, and still no guards. Well, he thought to himself as he shifted his grip upon his submachine gun, if this was a trap, then it was time to spring it.

He drew out a door breaching charge, and as their target came into sight, he slapped it on. Then he waited for the others to get into position. He nodded over to Sir Charles, and then remotely activated it.

The tiny charge exploded, blowing a fairly good sized hole in the doors. After that, came the grenades, two flash bangs, two smoke grenades, and a couple of EMP's to be safe. Then they slide thermal visors on, which had been specifically hardened for this mission, and went through the door.

Once again, the sheer lack of resistance surprised them. The walrus motioned for the rest of the group to fan out, to try and find their quarry. He had to be here somewhere, but he was beginning to have the sinking feeling that the overlord was not in this particular building. If that was indeed the case, they needed to find him, and fast.

He heard a soldier cry out and then hit the ground, and he whirled around, thinking it an ambush.

However, no fire came from some hidden doorway or alcove, and the man who'd tripped seemed to be okay. Rotor moved over to help him, wondering what he could have stumbled over.

He almost didn't see it as he approached the man, who was getting to his feet unassisted, his boots clacking on something that didn't sound completely metallic. He stopped and looked down. In front of him was a large object, barely a shade warmer than the floor and air around them. The man must have stumbled over it. The guerilla soldier wondered what it could have been, and checked the watch on his HUD. The smoke from the grenades would probably take about another fifteen seconds to dissipate, and then he would find his answer.

The seconds ticked by, each one making him more and more agitated. However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when it cleared and he removed his goggles. There was a collective bit of gasping, followed by terse whispers, and the walrus realized they would be unable to complete their mission…

…Because someone had beaten them to the punch.

It took him a moment or two to actually realize that this was Julian in front of him. Blood was everywhere, dried trails of it coming from dozens of holes in the despot. One arm had been sliced off, and his face was twisted into a mask of absolute horror. Rigor mortis appeared to have just barely settled in, meaning that who or whatever had done this had killed the tyrant less than four hours ago. Such a thought barely registered with the resistance soldiers, though, who were trying to wrap their minds around what they were looking at.

"Holy Goddess," the Freedom Fighter remarked, staring down at the corpse, "are you guys seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Yes," he heard Sally say over the comm. line. "How…"

"I don't know," he remarked, prodding the body, half expecting it to suddenly reanimate, "but something got a hold of him. Look's like some sort of wild animal almost… You don't suppose that he was attempting to roboticize a drexyl, do you?" He said, laughing weakly.

"Would be a fitting end for him," the princess spat. "Have your guys spread out and try to find Snivley, if we don't bag him, he might be able to pick up where his uncle left off."

"Roger that," Rotor said, steel in his voice, and a faint bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, this whole mess might finally be over with. He turned to his troops, and barked for them to begin a systematic sweep of the whole region.

Sir Charles was the last one to leave, stating that he wanted to check something out, and he'd catch right back up with them. As they left, he reached down into a utility belt, and withdrew a small vial. Some of Robotnik's blood hadn't completely dried yet, and he was able to get some into the container. Carefully placing the cap back on, he noticed something about the body.

While the majority of the wounds appeared to be long gashes and did indeed make it look as if a drexyl or some other large predatory creature had mauled him, one wound was different. It was a stab wound, right through Julian's heart. It was deep, almost going all the way through the overlord. It looked to be the death wound, and Sir Charles was a little confused by it, as it seemed so different from the rest of them.

He couldn't afford to waste any more time, though, and he hurriedly replaced the vial in his belt, before leaving to catch back up to the others.

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Panting, grunting, stretching one arm out over the other. Had to get out of here, had to escape. Stupid uncle of his, should have just left him to die. No, couldn't do that could he? Had to take him in, had to try and make him into the latest super weapon. If he weren't already dead, he would have shot him.

Such were the thoughts of Snivley as he desperately tried to flee the city of Robotropolis. He wasn't making good progress, as it was hard to escape quickly when one couldn't use one's legs. The irony was thick there, being kneecapped with his own pistol, before being forced to shut down the security forces, and program some tech bots to repair that wretched fiend and fix his armor.

Ordinarily, he would have attempted a double cross, but not this time. No, not after all that he had seen the ARC trooper do when he was properly enraged. He didn't trust himself to be able to kill the cyborg before it could counter attack, especially after it had already shot him twice with his own weapon. On some level, he supposed he should have been grateful that he'd been allowed to live, but as it was, it looked like the commando might have done that just so he could find himself in the hospitable company of the Freedom Fighters.

He'd seen them on the move, had barely managed to remain out of sight. Soon, they'd know the truth, and then they'd swarm over this city, tearing it apart looking for him. Fear clutched at his soul, as he thought of what would happen if he were to be caught. His beatings at the hands of Julian would doubtlessly be pleasant by comparison.

That fear spurred him onward, and he frantically clawed at the dura-crete underneath him, not caring a whit that he was tearing his nails off and bloodying up his hands in his frenzy to get away.

He knew he wasn't going to make it, though. Within two hours, guerilla strike craft would be zooming down these streets, and then they'd have him. He almost wanted to weep.

It wasn't fair, dammit! He was supposed to topple that bloated sack of flesh and take over! He was supposed to rule this world! Now, now, because of his uncle's idiocy and insistence upon theatrics and a good laugh, it had all come tumbling down in ruin.

A shadow fell over him, and he abruptly looked up, fear spiking through his heart as he thought that the Freedom Fighters had found him. Much to his surprise though, this person wasn't with them. At least, the diminutive Overlander didn't think anyone within their ranks wore a cloak like that. The person looked down upon him, the only thing visible being its glowing red eyes.

"Evening, Jonathan," he said, his voice neutral as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I take it your day hasn't been fun?"

"Who… who are you?" the little man asked, somewhat surprised to hear someone calling him by his real name after all these years.

"At the moment, quite possibly your savior," the person replied enigmatically, and Jonathan could hear a smile in the tone.

"What do you mean?" the little man asked, not daring to hope.

"I have great plans for this world, Jonathan," the Mobian replied offhandedly, "but I cannot do them alone. I will need someone with technical expertise on my side, and I can think of no one more qualified than you."

"What would I get out of this?" he asked, somewhat suspicious. This seemed too good to be true, and while he didn't want to be left here to die, he didn't relish the prospect of being an underling again.

"You'd live to see the end of the day for one thing," the cloaked person responded. "And in the long run… power, respect, a place by my side when I am done…"

Jonathan mulled it over in his head, thinking about it. It was tempting, but his uncle had made a similar offer to him thirteen years ago. Finally though, that stubborn streak in him that had simply refused to allow him to give up and die (and he had certainly felt like ending it all at several times these past few years) reared its head again, and he nodded. The Mobian stepped forward, and gently picked him up off of the ground. He then turned, and faced towards the edge of the city.

"I suggest you hold on tight," he said, his tone quiet.

The Overlander meant to ask what he was talking about, but found his words swept away in a scream as they shot off. The buildings move by in a blurred fashion, so swiftly that he could not tell one from another.

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He had everything he needed set up, and now he placed the data disk into one of the many computers of his hideout and waited for it to load up. He'd told the others that there had been some stuff that he'd needed from his lab. It was true for the most part. He needed answers.

As he began to navigate the enormous amounts of data pertaining to the ARC project, he reached down and withdrew the vial that he had. When he finally reached the files that had been locked down by the level seven security code, carefully inserted a drop of Robotnik's blood into a receptacle that this particular computer had.

It took nearly a minute to confirm that the DNA sequences were the same, but when the machine was finished, Sir Charles found himself with unlimited access to whatever it was that Robotnik wanted to keep from them. He anxiously clicked on the largest file, which turned out to be a security camera feed.

"Is everything ready, Snivley?" Julian asked as he appeared on the screen.

"Yes sir," the little man replied, shaking his head in an affirmative nod.

"Good, wake him up," the overlord said, placing both hands behind his back. "This is going to be priceless!"

It was only then that the old scientist noticed that the two Overlanders were standing in front of a shielded holding cell of some sort. There was an operating table of some kind in the middle, hooked up to various machines. He couldn't see who or what was on the table, but he hazarded a guess that it must have been Norrack. His heart went out to whatever pour soul that had been. Curiosity was there, though, and he couldn't help but wonder who the man had been.

Snivley typed something into a datapad, a confirming note resounding throughout the room as he pressed the enter key. The command must have remotely injected a stimulant of some sort, as a couple of seconds later there arouse a groan from the table. It was followed by a swift gasp of surprise. The old man noticed the distortion in the voice, and truthfully he was surprised. He had thought that the partially mechanized voice the cyborg had had was something having to do with his helmet. Robotnik must have taken it deeper than that, apparently messing with Norrack's vocal cords. That did strike him as odd, and he wondered why the tyrant would have done such a thing.

His answer came a moment later.

"What the hell?" Norrack said, his tone slightly groggy.

"Glad to see you are awake," Robotnik stated, and Sir Charles could hear the malice and twisted joy in his voice. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you back to the land of the living… hedgehog."

If Uncle Chuck had still had a heart, it probably would have stopped right then. He blinked once, and then twice, his mind unable to process what it had just heard. No! He thought to himself. That couldn't be!

Unfortunately, it was the truth.

A scream of pure, bloodthirsty rage came from the holding cell, and Uncle Chuck heard the sound of metal being ripped apart. In another instant there came the sound of an impact against the shield. Snivley yelped and leaped backwards, giving the roboticized scientist a clear view of the other side. Had he still been able to breath, the air would have departed his lungs.

It _was_ Sonic, and pain tore through the old man in a manner he would have never thought possible.

His nephew, no, his son, his boy, the child he had taken in a loved as if he were his own, stood on the other side of that barrier, hate on all of his features and murder in his eyes. Where once had been his arms and legs, were now mechanized replicas, ending at the shoulders and the hips. The rest of his body was intact for the most part, though Sir Charles could see the scars that covered his chest and face, The mirrored the skeletal system, tracing his ribcage along his torso, while eight of them cut jagged lightning bolts like lines outward from the center of his visage. The old man wept inwardly, for he knew what had caused those.

Adding to the level of ferocity that these new additions gave him was the fact that his build was heavier, his muscles more pronounced now, as if they'd been chemically enhanced. Sonic's quills were also slightly shorter than he remembered, and his subconscious mind chalked that up to them being scorched off. He was surprised that there didn't appear to be any scars from burns upon his son, but that thought was a small one indeed.

Snarling, his scarred visage twisted into a mask that looked so wrong upon him, Sonic reached back, and slammed his right fist into the shield, sending shockwaves through it.

Robotnik began to laugh, that accursed, mind grating laugh he always used when things were going exactly as he wanted them to. "Well, hedgehog, I must say I rather like these new additions to you."

"Yeah, they'll look lovely when I'm holding your heart in my hands!" the Freedom Fighter snarled, a look in his eyes that would have sent chills down the spine of a demon.

"Oh I don't think so," Julian said, shaking his head slightly. "But if it is blood you lust for, rodent, then I believe we had better get started. Snivley," he called, turning to his nephew, "activate the neural chip!"

In the next moment, Sonic slid to his knees, a cry of pain coming from him.

"No!" Uncle Chuck shouted, his voice cracking, watching the lines of agony on the face of his son, watching him grab his head, shaking it, slamming it against the shield, trying to do anything to get rid of the pain.

Sobbing, he killed the video feed, unable to watch it anymore. Then he broke down, shoulders heaving, broken, wretched cries coming from him.

For what seemed like ages, he wept. No tears were shed, but by the time it was over with he was slumped down on the floor, rocking back and forth, his face buried in his arms.

Perhaps, though, if he had not been so eager to acquire what he needed to unlock the secrets of Julian's files, he would have realized something about earlier. Julian's death wound, the stab through his heart, had all the earmarks of being done with a fairly long bladed weapon, a sword. However, the wound had been cauterized, sealed as if by fire…

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He stared around at the ruins, scarcely daring to believe what his eyes and his memories told him. His home was in ruins, every last structure burned to the ground. Corpses still littered some areas of the field, and he could see the craters where Jackhammers had hit home, and the smoking ruins of what had once been Wraiths.

It was a scene straight from the Nine Hells.

But what made it all the worse was the fact that he had participated in this. He had cut down his fellows. He had burned them alive, had shot them, gutted them, and beheaded them.

Choking back a sob, he wandered over to one region of the village. After a few minutes, he stood in front of the remains of a hut. The coals and embers had long since died, but a bit of smoke still wafted up, curling about in complex patterns.

He stepped into the ruins, moving over to a particular area before hunching down and sifting through the rubble. For some time, he did this, until he found something. He pulled it out, staring at it, silently marveling that it had survived.

It was a simple ferrosteel ring, slightly charred, stained black and grey with sooth and ash. He felt tears come to his eyes as he continued to look at it, to twist it back and forth in his left hand.

Once, what seemed to be eons ago, the ring had been a splendid, shining gold. It had been only paint, of course, as real gold was a little bit hard to find in the middle of a war like the one they had been involved in. He'd made it himself after that night that he and Sally had spent together, and had been planning to propose to her with it after they'd won.

What a twisted, macabre act of Fate that he should find it again now, the sole surviving relic from what had once been his hut. It was no less twisted that his own position now. Robotnik was dead, slain at his own hands. But so were hundreds of his comrades.

He could remember every face, the fear in their eyes, as he'd slaughtered them. The blood of scores of innocents was upon his hands, upon his soul.

What would they think of him, of the monster that he had become? He clutched the battered ring to his chest, sobbing quietly. Sobs became full throated wails, and the local wildlife quickly left the hedgehog to his sorrows. All the while, he held onto that ring, gripping it as if the universe would end if he were to let go.

His grief was interrupted, though, by a sound that was familiar to him. He heard a humming, almost like an audible shimmer. He twisted instinctively, looking over towards the Ring Pool. One of them was coming up. It broke the surface of the water, shinning like a halo, golden, beautiful, pure.

An irrational hatred filled him at that moment, as he looked upon that old reminder of his life, surfacing now as if to remind him of all that he had done. Roaring, he jumped to his feet, drew his kaiburr sword with his repaired right arm, and charged.

He ignited the blade as he rushed towards that old symbol of himself, his eyes narrowed dangerously behind the visor of his helmet. Moving faster than most could have followed, he vaulted into the air, flipping over and bringing his blade down upon the power ring with all of his might.

The blade shattered it, and a golden explosion filled the area, causing his visor to darken almost instantly. An alarm warbled inside his helmet, letting him know he had nearly depleted his shields, but he gave it no heed as he stood there, waist deep in the waters of the pool, which were now much warmer than they had been a few seconds earlier.

He looked down at the other ring, the one he held in his left hand. Closing his eyes, he deactivated his weapon and sheathed it. He then turned, and began to slowly move out of the village ruins. They'd probably found his handiwork back in Robotropolis, and it was only a matter of time before they came back here. He couldn't be found, couldn't go back. Not after all that he had done.

Gently, reverently, he placed the ring into his utility belt, before running off into the woods at top speed.

His sentence was exile. He could no longer live among this world, among the pure souled people he had fought alongside of, and the people he had loved.

An image of Sally filled his mind, and pain lanced through him, almost causing him to stumble. He tried to banish that image, but found that he could not. In a way, though, it served to strengthen his resolve in this matter.

Better they think him dead, than alive as he was now.

He knew where he would go. He wasn't certain exactly where it was, his memories of it, which seemed sharper now that he was what he had been meant to be, were still somewhat vague, but he knew the rough area of where he needed to start his search.

It was an appropriate place for a creature born of shadows and darkness to reside…

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Okay, now, as I prepare to be mauled and dragged out into the street to be run over, I will say that I hope that this chapter was enjoyable, and that I have not angered anyone too much with my abuse of our beloved little pin cushion (what can I say, I may not kill canon characters, but I have no qualms about making them wish they were dead (insert fiendish grin and diabolical laughter)).

At any rate, just one chapter left, and as always, feedback is greatly welcomed, be it constructive criticism, flames, ideas, etc and so forth.

Thank you all, and have a great day.


	23. Epilogue: Hope and Darkness…

Good day to you everyone… I think its day… (glances at computer clock) Okay, technically it is. Haven't been able to sleep again. There was a football game this evening and I guess we won, judging by the honking of horns and the amount of firecrackers being set off outside of my dorm… really shoulda brought my paintball gun with me…

At any rate, decided to make use of the time and give this chapter a final proofread and then finish this tale.

As always, my humblest of thanks to everyone who has read this amateur's work. To those of you who have reviewed, your feedback as been extremely welcomed, and in many cases, has provided me with the insights that I needed to keep going. For this, I cannot thank you enough. (bows humbly)

Lawyers- For the last time (in this story anyway) I own nothing but the creations of my own demented mind, now bugger the heck off!

Anyways, I present you with the final chapter of Ghosts of the Past, and I hope that you enjoy it.

(edit) Thank God! They've finally fixed the formatting!

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Epilogue: Hope and Darkness…

"Come on, princess, one more time," the doctor said, gently urging her on.

Taking a deep breath, Sally tried to do as she'd been instructed, bracing herself for the pain. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand, and looked over, her eyes meeting Bunnie's. Her friend smiled in an encouraging manner, and the ground squirrel returned it as best she could. Then she grit her teeth, and pushed.

It was painful to say the least, and she couldn't stop a scream. However, this time, her cry was to be the final one, and at last, her child was out in the world. Much to the surprise of everyone, and to their slight concern, the child didn't scream its lungs out when it emerged.

Thankfully though, the baby, a girl, was breathing fine and after cleaning her off and wrapping her up, the doctors handed her over to her mother. The princess let a tired grin come to her face as she stared at her child.

"You got a name for her?" Bunnie inquired, looking every bit the role of dotting aunt.

"Saria," the mother said, looking into the child's green eyes, the eyes of her father.

There was an intelligent curiosity to those eyes, and the newly christened baby looked all around the room, as if taking in every detail. She was a ground squirrel, like her mother. However, her fur on her arms and chest were a lighter shade than the rest of her, and her crimson hair had some obvious spikes to it.

Sally felt a pull at her heartstrings, despite the joy of the occasion. She ignored the doctors who fretted about, and let her thoughts drift to Sonic. Goddess, she missed him more now than she ever had before. How she wished he cold have been hear, could have looked into the eyes of his daughter.

There were times when she swore that she could still feel him around, as if he had never left.

A giggle brought her back to reality, and she looked down in time to see little Saria beep her tiny fist against her nose. She smiled softly in response, brushing her thumb, her real thumb, up against the child's cheek. It would appear as though the girl had a bit of her father's spunk about her as well. Bunnie laughed, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

"I think I'll go let the others know how it turned out," she said, patting her best friend gently on the shoulder before heading out the door.

She was gone for all of fifteen seconds before she returned with her father, Elias, and several others in tow. They immediately crowded around the mother and the baby, marveling at the little miracle that had just arrived. King Maximilian seemed to take an instant liking to his granddaughter, a liking which seemed mutual judging by the way he was able to get Saria to laugh.

Sally looked into her father's eyes and smiled. They'd patched things up quite a bit over these last few months. Something aided by the fact that there had been so much to do that had required them working together, and that he'd nearly lost her when Knothole had been destroyed.

After Julian's death, and the disappearance of Snivley, there had been a lot of work to be done. As luck had had it, the overlord had been putting a lot of resources into getting a functional deroboticizer up and running, apparently for the purpose of having a large group of ARC troopers ready to move out as quickly as was possible. This had made their job much easier, and within months, entire cities had been restored to normal.

There was still a lot to do, as was evident when Amy and Tails came in. The former was in a wheelchair, while the latter was wearing heavy gloves and a jacket to hide his scars. Uncle Chuck had been working a new project that centered on them and Bunnie. Determined to take something good away from the ARC project, he'd begun delving into the flash-cloning nature of the experiment. They already knew how to create a full body, and individual functioning limbs for that matter. The problem lay in the fact that the old man had yet to figure out how to slow the process down once the appendage had reached the age that it was supposed to have.

Still, the princess held out hope that they would one day find the key.

The hedgehog girl rolled up close, staring at the child, before looking over to her mother.

"Can I hold her?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, but be gentle," Sally said, before carefully handing Saria over to Amy.

The girl held her as if she were a priceless object, gently rocking her back and forth. The princess smiled once again, although she had to admit the ordeal had been exhausting. Nonetheless, hope continued to burn in her heart though as she watched her child giggle once again, drawing the usual amount of 'awes' and what not from the rest of the group.

She let her eyes drift over to Sir Charles, noting the tired look on his face. He had not yet been restored to flesh and blood, determined that he should be among the last group of people to receive that blessing. Nonetheless, he just looked exhausted, and had for some time. It was as if something had been eating away at him from the inside. He claimed that it was stress, but she'd always suspected it was something deeper than that. Still, it wasn't her right to prod, and if something was bothering him, he'd let them know in time.

That fatigue seemed to vanish once it was his turn to hold Saria, and an impish grin came over his mechanized visage, one that Sally remembered that he and his son would have on when they were about to play a prank of some sort. Surprisingly, his granddaughter didn't seem at all put off by the fact that she was being held by a machine, though she did look a little confused when her tiny fists bonked against his metal skin.

She smiled once more, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to turn out alright.

* * *

Outside of the room, Antoine let a faint grin come to his face as he crossed his arms. His fiancé had just delivered the news that Sally had brought a little girl into the world. He was glad to hear that both mother and child were apparently in good health, and he silently lamented the fact that the third member of the group was not present to round it out. A flash of anger went out towards Robotnik, but the coyote quickly suppressed it, contending himself with the fact that the overweight blob was no doubt being prodded by pitchforks and tormented by all manner of demonic entities at the moment.

He heard a grumble off to his left, and he glanced over, his mechanical eye taking in the scene of Geoffrey St. John. The skunk had a frown on his face, which quickly became a sneer.

"And thus is the birth of a bastard child celebrated," the colonel muttered, shaking his head.

Antoine remained silent, though his grin faded into a tight lipped, neutral expression. Slowly, he looked down one end of the hospital hallway, and then the other. Certain that no one was watching, he acted. He pivoted ninety degrees, took one step over to the skunk, and then brought his knee slamming into the man's groin. Geoffrey's eyes, real and cybernetic, bulged with pain, and his mouth opened, though no scream came out. If it had, though, the royal guard was under the impression that it would have been in the soprano section.

The skunk went to his knees, clutching at his wounded area, before slumping over, apparently out cold.

The coyote let out a 'hmph' of contempt, and then resumed his post at the door.

* * *

He shut his eyes and rested his head in his palms. Before him was a computer screen, evidence of a multitude of data files present upon the monitor. He didn't dare to believe it. He had thought himself a freak before this, and now… now he knew the true depths of his origins, how truly freakish he was.

On the flip side, at least he knew what was happening to him, though he still didn't understand the strange dreams that had haunted him lately, or more importantly, why he was having them.

He rose from the chair he'd been sitting in, and walked to the door of the room. It hissed open, revealing a long, sterile hallway. He looked over to the side of the corridor, polished so smoothly that he could see his reflection. The scars stood out for all to see, and he traced a cybernetic finger along them.

He remembered getting them all too well, and what he'd done after he'd gotten them. Memories flashed, painfully reminding him of what had transpired. He shook his head, letting his quills, which he'd allowed to grow to the point to where they were just above his waist, fly about.

He strode down the hallway, finally entering into an elevator. Pressing a floor number, he felt the contraption shoot up several hundred meters, before opening silently and letting him out.

He took five steps forward and leaned upon the railing that was there, staring down into this place. The main section was built like a giant pit of concentric rings, each one slightly smaller than the one above it. Trams and subways connected it to various outlying stations, from the mess halls to the living quarters to the hangers and armories to other, more distant top secret science labs similar to the one from which he'd just emerged.

Stonehenge, this place was called, and he had now come full circle, returning to the dark place from which he'd been born. He closed his eyes, and let his thoughts drift, let his senses reach out.

For a moment, he could feel her, and the others. They were happy, it seemed, as if they were celebrating something. Good for them, they deserved it after everything that had happened, after everything that he had done to them.

A beeping sound drew him back, and he twisted to watch a small utility droid go zipping by him, heading off to fix something, though what he didn't exactly know. Those machines were his only company now, and they were not exactly keen on conversation. Still, it was nothing less than he deserved, after what he'd done, the crimes he'd committed.

Sorrow and self loathing welled up inside of him, and he clenched an artificial fist. Control, control, he had to concentrate. Already, he heard the groaning of metal from somewhere, and realized that if he didn't focus properly, he might rip out something important.

He willed himself to calm down, taking a deep breath and exhaling. He needed to get some rest, had been a while since he'd slept, and he truly had no clue if it was day or night up on the surface. His fatigue was making him sloppy, and that was bad. Yes, that was it, he'd sleep, then try to see if he could delve into himself some more, try to figure out how to control these newfound 'gifts.'

* * *

Nearly half a world away, a very different event was occurring.

The Mobian skittered through the darkened alleyways of the city of Station Square. This particular region was run down, to say the least. It had yet to be fully repaired and it still bore the marks of Julian's reign.

The Mobian smirked to himself. While the overlord might have bought the big one at the hands of his brother, and the Acorns might have been back on the throne of Mobius, the southern region had had some problems. Massive derobotizations had made it possible for numerous psychopaths and criminals to get back to what they were doing before the coup. The governmental troops and various police forces had been unable to handle the sudden backlash, and in desperation, people and businesses had found themselves turning to a more exotic source of protection.

He'd been looking for a group of people like that for a while, and at last, he believed that he had found the perfect ones. They were battle hardened, having been with the southern Freedom Fighters for years, and they had earned recognition for their efforts in retaking this very city. However, shortly thereafter, they had revealed their origins, and had been ostracized as a result of it. Embittered, they had left, only to return months later as guns for hire. They had quickly established an underground reputation as people who had a knack for brining in social deviants and making organized crime bosses regret the day they were born.

Unfortunately for them, their heritage prevented many official 'jobs' from reaching them, and if the rumor mill was to be believed, several government officials might have actually put contracts out on them.

Such tactics would make his job all the easier.

He arrived in a dank, deserted courtyard, and found them waiting for him.

They were dressed in armor the color of the sky above their heads, with one exception. The man in the front, his visage hidden behind his helmet, was wearing silver, with a blue Mythosaur skull upon the headgear. He had to resist the urge to laugh. A Mandalore and his Death Watchmen, so much the better.

He frowned then, noticing that there were only six present, when he had been informed there were seven members to this group. Then he realized it, and he smiled.

"So, is the missing member of your squad around here somewhere?" he inquired, gesturing to the old buildings. "No doubt with some crosshairs trained on my head?"

"Your pretty smart for a man foolish enough to arrive without backup, Mr. Johnson," the leader said, one hand causally resting on the grip of a heavy pistol. "Now what's the job?"

"I need you to perform a service for me," he said, continuing to make a detailed analysis of the group in front of him. "If you accept, the reward will be beyond what you can imagine."

"We've heard such things before," the other man said, cocking his head, "the last time it was from a police constable who turned on us after we gave him his prize crime boss."

Ahh yes, that little incident, officially chalked up to a drug bust gone bad. He remembered reading about it, thought it rather suspicious (he didn't know of any drug cartels in this neck of the woods who could have brought out the level of firepower required for the ensuing destruction), and decided to delve further into it. It was one of the things that made him decide that this was the group to use. All of the police involved had been killed, even thought they'd outnumbered this bunch by a four to one margin and had the advantage of surprise as well as tactical assault weapons. He had to admit that the constable had been pretty stupid though; thinking he could intimidate and bully a squadron of hardened warriors like this, particularly when they were packing enough weaponry to take out a couple of city blocks.

Most of them had been killed by disturbingly accurate heart or headshots, while others had been blown to pieces by military grade anti-squad weapons, but the constable himself had been different. He'd been decapitated, and as he glanced at the leader, he spotted the handles from a pair of what appeared to be bladed weapons, possibly curved in nature, though he couldn't tell with that kama in the way. He had little doubt that one of those, or perhaps both, had been responsible for that gruesome bit of retribution.

"How many credits are we talking about here?" one of the black armored soldiers, the one nearest to the leader, replied, revealing itself to be a female.

"I'm not paying you in credits," 'Johnson' replied with a shake of his cloaked head.

"Then this meeting is over," the leader replied.

"Now, now, don't be hasty," the other Mobian responded, raising his hands. "I'm offering you something greater, something far more valuable than credits. Besides," he continued with a slight laugh, "I know your kind, you aren't in it for the money, you're in it for the challenge."

"What is this 'valuable' reward," the Mandalore inquired, sounding irritated.

"A chance to save your people from extinction," was the response that he got.

That got their attention. They remained silent, but the cloaked man knew that Mandalorian battle gear had a private comm. line that was good for twenty meters. They could be having a blazing argument right now and he wouldn't have a clue about it. Their body language was also perfectly masked, giving him no hints as to how their little conference was going.

After a minute or two, the leader brought his hand up and rested it against the chin of his helmet. Finally, he spoke.

"We're listening," he said.

"Haha, I knew that you would choose wisely," the man said, smirking underneath his cowl. "I have a… colleague… of sorts, who has the means to create an army the likes of which this world has never seen. Unfortunately, we lack trainers for this army. I will settle for nothing less than the best, and that search has led me to you…"

"And what exactly are you planning on using this army for?" the Mandalore asked, getting another smile in reply.

"Why, I am surprised that you even have to ask," he stated, before gesturing around him. "Look, my dear friend, look at this world, what do you see? I see anarchy, I see chaos, I see murders and criminals on the loose, I see corrupt officials who turn on an honor pledge just as soon as it is convenient for them to do so. I see a battle to be waged to get this world back in line."

"You're talking about world domination, just like Robotnik!" the armored man snarled, drawing his weapons so quickly that they just seemed to appear in his hands.

"Perhaps," Johnson replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I will tell you this, though. You have no idea what you are dealing with here, my friend. I am more than what I appear to be. If you try and gun me down, I will fight back, and I don't think you and your friends will be the ones to walk away from this encounter." He then opted for a demonstration, extending a hand and gesturing. The Mandalorian's guns were suddenly yanked out of his hands and zipped over to where the hooded Mobian was standing, whereupon they floated gently in the air.

They were good at hiding their surprise, but he knew that he'd managed to shock them. He'd used enough theatrics, though. It was time to get back on track.

"Beside that, you have two other choices: accept or walk. If you reject my offer, I'll simply find another group, and you'll probably never hear from me again. But," he paused again, raising a finger, "if you join me, I will give you a chance to raise your people up from the ashes of Malachor, and you will be forever known as the resurrectors of the Mandalorian race!"

He gestured again, and the two guns went back to their owner, who promptly grabbed them. They said nothing, though, and he could tell that they were in another discussion. After another minute, the man holstered his weapons. He smiled underneath his cowl. He had judged them well. Their discipline and loyalty to one another, to a cause, was commendable, and a very good thing for an army. Under normal circumstances, he knew they would probably never join him, and might have even tried to go through on their earlier threat. However, the thought of extinction could make one a little desperate, and he had also played off the fact that they'd been betrayed left and right because of what they were, trying to make it appear as though he was the one honorable player in an otherwise dishonorable world. His thoughts were confirmed when the man removed his helmet, a sign of trust among Mandalorians. He was a timber wolf, but the gray fur of his face was marred by a pair of tattoos, a winding red streak coming off each eye, like a pair of bloody tears.

"When do we leave?" the man asked.

"Right now, if you're ready," he responded. "I've got a transport just outside the city; we can take it to where we're working."

"Sounds like a plan," the Mandalore responded, before putting his helmet back on.

He went quite after that, but the cloaked man knew that he was having another conversation, as a moment later, the sound of a jetpack filled the courtyard, and looking over, he saw a black armored figure descending from a rooftop, a long barreled rifle in his hands. He landed and fell in line with the others.

"Since this sounds like its going to be a long haul, you mind telling us your real name?" the leader inquired as he turned to begin walking out of the courtyard.

"Shadow, my dear Mandalore, Shadow is my name," was the cowled man's response.

They became silent after that. But he could sense that they were probably talking amongst themselves.

They were indeed chatting over their private comm. line.

"I don't like this, it sounds like a trap," one of the females, the one closest to the leader, stated.

"Easy, _kar'taylir_, why would he do that?" the Mandalore replied. "There are easier ways to lure us into a trap than this. Besides, he doesn't look like he's part of the local security force. You know how they are."

"What's more, Brianna," the sniper said, his tone quite, "you heard what he's offering, this isn't something we can afford to _not_ check out."

"I know, Kex, I know," was all the young woman said, unconsciously placing a hand against her stomach and moving a bit closer to her leader. "And what if it does turn out to be a trap? What do we do then, Jaster?"

"Then the Goddess help him," her leader, her husband, replied. "Because we won't take kindly to having our hopes built up like this…"

With that, they fell silent, moving off into the night like ghosts, following Shadow to what they hoped would be their salvation.

Up ahead of them, Shadow smiled. Everything was going according to plan…

* * *

&

* * *

Okay, and that's a wrap. 

Once again, I would like to thank each and every one of you for all the help that you've given me over the months I've spent. Cyrex, PhiloWorm, Farr2rich, and everyone else, I couldn't have done it without you guys.

It may be a while before I upload the next story, I need to hammer down a few points and try to update my other one (which my muse seems to have deserted me on). I hope I have left you interested as to what will happen in the next story, though if I have managed to confuse you, let me know and I'll try to answer the question.

Many thanks again, to one and all. God bless you, and have a great day.

Until next time, this is Red Mage 04, signing off. (bows)


End file.
